Anaea Jackson and the Last Olympian
by IWantColouredRain
Summary: The time has come. After years of waiting and fighting, the Titan Army is on Olympus' doorstep, and the seconds are counting down to Ana's 16th birthday. But, with enemies all around, a spy in Camp, and overwhelming odds, will Ana save the world, or destroy it? (fem!Percy)
1. I Blow Up a Demonic Cruise Ship

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Thanks to everyone who's following this story. Can you believe it's the last book?**

**Chapter One**

**I Blow Up A Demonic Cruise Ship**

The apocalypse began when a pegasus landed on the hood of Rachel's car.

It was a good car, of course. Being millionaires, the Dares only got the best. But it was a convertible Jeep rather than the Audi Rachel's father, William, had originally offered her. I figured he'd probably be pretty pissed off by the hoofprints now imbedded in the hood.

Considering all of the stress and upset he caused Rachel, the thought gave me a vicious sense of satisfaction that quickly disappeared as I took in the grave expression on Beckendorf's face.

Beckendorf was dressed for combat. He wore a bronze breastplate and war helm with black camo pants and a sword strapped to his side. His explosives bag was slung over his shoulder.

"It's time?" I confirmed my suspicion.

He nodded grimly. "We've gotta go now, or we'll be too late."

I turned to Rachel, giving her an apologetic look. "Sorry," I said genuinely. I really meant it too. Rachel was my escape from the stress and responsibilities I had in the Greek world. I hated when we were interrupted by my 'real' life problems.

Though disappointment glinted in her emerald eyes, Rachel shrugged. She was easy-going like that.

"Don't worry about it," she urged me. "Just go and save the world. IM me or something to say how it went."

"Will do," I agreed, sliding out of the car and climbing up onto Blackjack.

"_Hey Boss-Lady!"_ my beloved pegasus greeted me cheerfully. _"Ready to go kick some monster ass?"_

"Always," I chuckled, patting his neck. "Let's go, Blackjack."

We took off over the Atlantic, and my last sight of Rachel was of her leaning back in her seat, watching us go with her arms crossed over her chest.

It was almost dark by the time we spotted our target. The Princess Andromeda glowed on the horizon—a huge cruise ship lit up yellow and white. From a distance, you'd think it was just a party ship, not the headquarters for the Titan lord's army. Then as you got closer, you might notice the giant figurehead—a dark-haired maiden in a Greek chiton, wrapped in chains with a look of horror on her face, as if she could smell the stench of all the monsters she was being forced to carry.

Seeing the ship again twisted my stomach into knots. I'd almost died twice on the Princess Andromeda. Now it was heading straight for New York.

"You know what to do?" Beckendorf yelled over the wind.

I nodded. We'd done dry runs at the dockyards in New Jersey, using abandoned ships as our targets. I knew how little time we would have. But I also knew this was our best chance to end Kronos' invasion before it ever started. Our only chance.

"Blackjack," I said, "set us down on the lowest stern deck."

"_Gotcha, Boss-Lady," _he agreed._ "Man, I hate seeing that boat."_

I gave him an understanding pat. Three years ago, Blackjack had been enslaved on the Princess Andromeda until he'd escaped with a little help from my friends and me. I figured he'd rather have his mane braided like My Little Pony than be back here again.

"Don't wait for us," I told him.

"_But,—"_

"Trust me," I insisted. "We'll get out by ourselves." I couldn't risk him being hurt. I loved him too much.

Blackjack folded his wings and plummeted toward the boat like a black comet. The wind whistled in my ears. I saw monsters patrolling the upper decks of the ship—dracaenae snake-women, hellhounds, giants, and the humanoid seal-demons known as telkhines—but we zipped by so fast, none of them raised the alarm. We shot down the stern of the boat, and Blackjack spread his wings, lightly coming to a landing on the lowest deck. I climbed off, feeling queasy.

"_Good luck, Boss-Lady,"_ Blackjack said. _"Don't let 'em turn you into horse meat!"_

With that, my old friend flew off into the night. I took my pin out of my hair and twisted the emerald, making Anaklusmos spring to full size—three feet of deadly Celestial bronze glowing gently in the dusk.

Beckendorf pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. For a second I thought it was a map or something. Then I realized it was a photograph. He stared at it in the dim light—the smiling face of Silena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite and one of my closest friends. They'd started going out last summer, after years of the rest of us teasing them about their blatant crushes. Even with all the dangerous missions, Beckendorf had been happier this year than I'd ever seen him.

"We'll make it back to camp," I promised. We had to.

For a second I saw worry in his eyes. Then he put on his usual confident smile.

"You bet," he agreed. "Let's go blow Kronos back into a million pieces."

Beckendorf led the way. We followed a narrow corridor to the service stairwell, just like we'd practiced, but we froze when we heard noises above us.

"I don't care what your nose says!" snarled a half-human, half-dog voice—a telkhine. "The last time you smelled half-blood, it turned out to be a meat loaf sandwich!"

"Meat loaf sandwiches are good!" a second voice snarled. "But this is half-blood scent, I swear. They are on board!"

"Bah, your brain isn't on board!"

They continued to argue, and Beckendorf pointed downstairs. We descended as quietly as we could. Two floors down, the voices of the telkhines started to fade.

Finally we came to a metal hatch. Beckendorf mouthed the words "engine room," to me.

It was locked, but Beckendorf pulled some chain cutters out of his bag and split the bolt like it was made of butter.

Inside, a row of yellow turbines the size of grain silos churned and hummed. Pressure gauges and computer terminals lined the opposite wall. A telkhine was hunched over a console, but he was so involved with his work, he didn't notice us. He was about five feet tall, with slick black seal fur and stubby little feet. He had the head of a Doberman, but his clawed hands were almost human. He growled and muttered as he tapped on his keyboard. Maybe he was messaging his friends on .

I stepped forward, and he tensed, probably smelling something was wrong. He leaped sideways toward a big red alarm button, but I blocked his path. He hissed and lunged at me, but one slash of Anaklusmos, and he exploded into dust.

"One down," Beckendorf stated. "About five thousand to go." He tossed me a jar of thick green liquid—Greek fire, one of the most dangerous magical substances in the world. Then he threw me another essential tool of demigods—duct tape.

"Slap that one on the console," he ordered. "I'll get the turbines."

We went to work. The room was hot and humid, and we were quickly drenched in sweat. Beckendorf was managing, a beneficial side-effect of spending hours at a time in the forges, but I was starting to feel faint from the heat.

The boat kept chugging along. Being the daughter of Poseidon, I have perfect bearings at sea. Don't ask me how, but I could tell we were at 40.19° North, 71.90° West, making eighteen knots, which meant the ship would arrive in New York Harbour by dawn. This would be our only chance to stop it.

I had just attached a second jar of Greek fire to the control panels when I heard the pounding of feet on metal steps—so many creatures coming down the stairwell I could hear them over the engines. Not a good sign.

I locked eyes with Beckendorf. "How much longer?"

"Too long." He tapped his watch, which was our remote control detonator. "I still have to wire the receiver and prime the charges. Ten more minutes at least."

Judging from the sound of the footsteps, we had about ten seconds. I made a split-second decision and summoned my sword again.

"I'll distract them," I announced quickly. "Meet you at the rendezvous point."

"Ana—"

"I'd tell you to wish me luck, but we both know I'm too good to need it."

He looked like he wanted to argue. The whole idea had been to get in and out without being spotted. But we were going to have to improvise.

"Good luck," he said anyway, despite my cocky claim that was more like something Luke would say then me.

I charged out the door.

A half dozen telkhines were tromping down the stairs. I cut through them faster than they could yelp. I kept climbing—past another telkhine, who was so startled he dropped his Lil' Demons lunch box. I left him alive so he could raise the alarm and hopefully get his friends to follow me rather than head toward the engine room.

I burst through a door onto deck six and kept running. I'm sure the carpeted hall had once been very plush, but over the last three years of monster occupation the wallpaper, carpet, and stateroom doors had been clawed up and slimed so it looked like the inside of a dragon's throat (and yes, unfortunately, I speak from experience).

Back on my first visit to the Princess Andromeda, my old enemies Ethan and Annabeth had kept some dazed tourists on board for show, shrouded in Mist so they didn't realize they were on a monster-infested ship. Now I didn't see any sign of tourists. My stomach churned when I thought about what had happened to them, since I doubted they'd been allowed to go home with their bingo winnings.

I reached the promenade, a big shopping mall that took up the whole middle of the ship, and I stopped cold. In the middle of the courtyard stood a fountain. And in the fountain squatted a giant crab.

I'm not talking "giant" like $7.99 all-you-can-eat Alaskan king crab. I'm talking giant like bigger than the fountain. The monster rose ten feet out of the water. Its shell was mottled blue and green, its pincers longer than my body.

If you've ever seen a crab's mouth, all foamy and gross with whiskers and snapping bits, you can imagine this one didn't look any better blown up to billboard size. Its beady black eyes glared at me, and I could see intelligence in them—and hate. The fact that I was the daughter of the sea god was not going to win me any points with Mr. Crabby. It might've even made things worse, a situation that occurred far more than I wished.

"FFFFffffff," it hissed, sea foam dripping from its mouth. The smell coming off it was like a garbage can full of fish sticks that had been sitting in the sun all week.

Alarms blared. Soon I was going to have lots of company and I had to keep moving.

"Hey there, crabby." I inched around the edge of the courtyard. "I'm just gonna scoot around you so—"

The crab moved with amazing speed. It scuttled out of the fountain and came straight at me, pincers snapping. I dove into a gift shop, ploughing through a rack of T-shirts. A crab pincer smashed the glass walls to pieces and raked across the room. I dashed back outside, breathing heavily, but Mr. Crabby turned and followed.

"There!" a voice called from a balcony above me. "Intruder!"

"Θεοί βλασφημίες όλα!" I snarled a curse under my breath.

If I'd wanted to create a distraction, I'd succeeded, but this was not where I wanted to fight. If I got pinned down in the centre of the ship, I was crab chow at best.

The demonic crustacean lunged at me. I sliced with Anaklusmos, taking off the tip of its claw. It hissed and foamed, but didn't seem hurt.

I tried to remember anything from the old stories that might help with this thing. I'd read something about a monster crab before—something about Hercules crushing it under his foot? That wasn't going to work here. This crab was slightly bigger than my Converse. Not to mention I hate being linked to that asshole by copying his techniques.

Then a weird thought occurred to me. Last December, I had visited Silena and her dad, Evan. We'd gone to a fancy seafood restaurant, and he'd shown us how crabs have a chink in their armour, right in the middle of their ugly bellies.

The only problem was getting to the ugly belly.

I glanced at the fountain, then at the marble floor, already slick from scuttling crab tracks. I held out my hand, concentrating on the water, and the fountain exploded. Water sprayed everywhere, three stories high, dousing the balconies and the elevators and the windows of the shops. The crab didn't care. It loved water. It came at me sideways, snapping and hissing, and I ran straight at it, screaming, "FUCKING HELL!" at the top of my lungs.

Just before we collided, I hit the ground baseball-style and slid on the wet marble floor straight under the creature. It was like sliding under a seven-ton armoured vehicle. All the crab had to do was sit and squash me, but before it realized what was going on, I jabbed Anaklusmos into the chink in its armour, let go of the hilt, and pushed myself out the backside.

The monster shuddered and hissed. Its eyes dissolved. Its shell turned bright red as its insides evaporated. The empty shell clattered to the floor in a massive heap.

I didn't have time to admire my handiwork. I ran for the nearest stairs while all around me monsters and demigods shouted orders and strapped on their weapons. It was a dangerous situation considering the fact that I was unarmed. My sword would return sooner or later, but for now it was stuck somewhere under the wreckage of the crab, and I had no time to retrieve it.

I was decent with unarmed combat (actually, only the Ares children beat me at it), but being unarmed against heavily armed and armoured foes was a precarious place to be. Both of my knives had been lost when I was trying to lure the monsters away from the engine room.

In the elevator foyer on deck eight, a couple of dracaenae slithered across my path. They held spears and weighted nets, and I knew from experience they could use them.

"What isss thisss?" one hissed. "A prize for Kronosss!"

I wasn't in the mood to play break-the-snake, but in front of me was a stand with a model of the ship, like a YOU ARE HERE display. I ripped the model off the pedestal and hurled it at the first dracaena. The boat smacked her in the face and she went down with the ship. I jumped over her, grabbed her friend's spear, and swung her around. She slammed into the elevator, and I kept running toward the front of the ship.

"Get her!" she screamed.

Hellhounds bayed. An arrow from somewhere whizzed past my face and impaled itself in the mahogany-panelled wall of the stairwell.

"γαμώ!" I grumbled under my breath. But I didn't really care how many enemies I had to fight, as long as I kept the monsters away from the engine room and gave Beckendorf more time.

As I was running up the stairwell, a kid charged down. He looked like he'd just woken up from a nap. His armour was half on and his hair and clothes were rumpled. He drew his sword and yelled, "Kronos!" but he sounded more scared than angry. He couldn't have been more than twelve—about the same age I was when I'd first arrived at Camp Half-Blood.

That thought depressed me. This kid was getting brainwashed—trained to hate the gods and lash out because he'd been born half-Olympian. Kronos was using him, and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.

No way was I going to hurt him. I didn't need a weapon for this. I stepped inside his strike and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the wall. His sword clattered out of his hand.

Then I did something I hadn't planned on. It was probably stupid. It definitely jeopardized our mission, but I couldn't help it. Monsters were different, they always came back. Demigods didn't. Killing a half-blood was murder, and I wasn't that awful a person. Not yet anyway.

"If you want to live," I told him, "get off this ship now. Tell the other demigods." Then I shoved him down the stairs and sent him tumbling to the next floor.

I kept climbing.

Bad memories: a hallway ran past the cafeteria. Luke, Tyson, and I had sneaked through here three years ago on my first visit.

I burst outside onto the main deck. Off the port bow, the sky was darkening from purple to black. A swimming pool glowed between two glass towers with more balconies and restaurant decks. The whole upper ship seemed eerily deserted.

All I had to do was cross to the other side. Then I could take the staircase down to the helipad—our emergency rendezvous point. With any luck, Beckendorf would meet me there. We'd jump into the sea. My water powers would protect us both, and we'd detonate the charges from a quarter mile away.

I was halfway across the deck when the sound of a voice made me freeze. "You're late, Ana."

Ethan stood on the balcony above me, a smile on his scarred face. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops, like he was just a normal college-age guy, but his eyes told the truth. They were solid gold.

Annabeth was hanging off his arm. Unlike Ethan/Kronos, she was dressed in an Ancient Greek-styled chiton that reached to her ankles, a pair of lace-up gold sandals studded with rubies, a ruby-and-gold necklace, bracelet and earrings. Her hair was done in an elaborate updo held in place with a gold circlet. Her eyes were a piercing silver, and her expression was cold. Themis, Titaness of divine law, order and customs. I'd seen Ethan/Kronos once, just after his resurrection. But this was the first time that I'd seen Themis.

"We've been expecting you for days." At first he sounded normal, like Ethan. But then his face twitched. A shudder passed through his body as though he'd just drunk something really nasty. His voice became heavier, ancient, and powerful—the voice of the Titan lord Kronos. The words scraped down my spine like a knife blade. "Come, bow before me."

"Yeah, that'll happen," I muttered.

Laistrygonian giants filed in on either side of the swimming pool as if they'd been waiting for a cue. Each was eight feet tall with tattooed arms, leather armour, and spiked clubs. Demigod archers appeared on the roof above the titans. Two hellhounds leaped down from the opposite balcony and snarled at me. Within seconds I was surrounded. A trap: there's no way they could've gotten into position so fast unless they'd known I was coming.

"You dare speak so insolently to the Lord of the Titans!" Themis snarled. Like with Ethan/Kronos, her voice was a strange mixture of Annabeth's and something more ancient and evil.

"Yes," I stated flatly. Respect towards immortals had never been my strong point, nor had controlling my temper. And right now I was furious. A traitor in Camp Half-Blood. It was the only explanation, and it enraged me to think that anybody would dare to pretend to be our friend, while helping the Titans murder us all.

Themis snarled and began to open her mouth to snap at me, but Kronos stopped her, patting her arm with a cold smirk.

"Hush, my love. I'm sure that the girl means no disrespect."

I scoffed at that, glowering up at them with all the hatred I muster. A voice in my head whispered to me:_ I have to fight him eventually. Why not now?_

According to the Great Prophecy, I was supposed to make a choice that saved or destroyed the world when I was sixteen. That was only seven days away. Why not now? If I really had the power, what difference would a week make? I could end this threat right here by taking down Kronos. Nobody else had to die, except maybe me, and that was an acceptable sacrifice.

As if reading my thoughts, Ethan smiled. No, he was Kronos. I had to remember that.

"Come forward my dear," he said, voice almost a purr. "If you dare."

Themis chuckled darkly, releasing her husband's arm and stepping way. The crowd of monsters parted. I moved up the stairs, my heart pounding. I was sure somebody would stab me in the back, but they let me pass. I felt my hair and found my pin waiting. I twisted the jewel, and Anaklusmos grew into a sword.

Kronos' weapon appeared in his hands—a six-foot-long scythe, half Celestial bronze, half mortal steel. Just looking at the thing made my stomach churn in revulsion. But before I could change my mind, I charged.

Time slowed down. I mean literally slowed down, because Kronos had that power. I felt like I was moving through syrup. My arms were so heavy, I could barely raise my sword. Kronos smiled, swirling his scythe at normal speed and waiting for me to creep toward my death.

I tried to fight his magic. I concentrated on the sea around me—the source of my power. I'd gotten better at channelling it over the years, but now nothing seemed to happen.

I took another slow step forward. Giants jeered. Dracaenae hissed with laughter. Themis laughed coldly, eyes glinting maliciously. For a deity of law, she didn't seem particularly concerned with fairness. Not that gods ever really were when it came to half-bloods.

_Hey, ocean, _I pleaded silently._ Any second now would be good. Really good._

Suddenly there was a wrenching pain in my gut. The entire boat lurched sideways, throwing monsters off their feet. Four thousand gallons of salt water surged out of the swimming pool, dousing me and Kronos and everyone on the deck. Themis shrieked in fury.

The water revitalized me, breaking the time spell, and I lunged forward.

I struck at Kronos, but I was still too slow. Ethan had once been a human, and the thought of becoming a murderer repulsed me, even if it was my enemy for years.

Kronos had no such hesitation. He sliced downward with his scythe. I leaped back, and the evil blade missed by an inch, cutting a gash in the deck right between my feet.

I kicked Kronos in the chest. He stumbled backward, but he was heavier than he should've been. It was like kicking a boulder.

Kronos swung his scythe again. I intercepted with Anaklusmos, but his strike was so powerful, my blade could only deflect it. I could feel the shock of the attack echoing down my arm. The edge of the scythe shaved off my shirtsleeve and grazed my arm. It shouldn't have been a serious cut, but the entire side of my body exploded with pain.

I remembered what a sea demon had once said about Kronos' scythe: _Careful, fool. One touch, and the blade will sever your soul from your body. _Now I understood what he meant. I wasn't just losing blood. I could feel my strength, my will, my identity draining away.

Terrified, I stumbled backward, switched my sword to my left hand, and lunged desperately. My blade should've run him through, but it deflected off his stomach like I was hitting solid marble. There was no way he should've survived that.

Kronos laughed. "A poor performance, Anaea Jackson. Ethan tells me you were never his match at swordplay."

"According to Annabeth, she always thought more highly of herself than true," Themis added idly, from where she stood watching the scene indifferently.

My vision started to blur. I knew I didn't have much time. "Ethan had a big head," I croaked. "But at least it was his head. And Annabeth could never see her hand in front of her face if she didn't want to acknowledge it."

"A shame to kill you now," Kronos mused, "before the final plan unfolds. I would love to see the terror in your eyes when you realize how I will destroy Olympus."

"It will be very amusing," Themis agreed. "Perhaps we ought to keep her alive long enough to witness her worst fear come to life. A fitting punishment for her defiance towards us."

"You'll never get this boat to Manhattan." My arm was throbbing. Black spots danced in my vision.

"And why would that be?" Kronos's golden eyes glittered. His face—Ethan's face—seemed like a mask, unnatural and lit from behind by some evil power. "Perhaps you are counting on your friend with the explosives?"

I had never felt so horrified in my life than when he said those awful words.

He looked down at the pool and called, "Torrington!"

A teenage guy in full Greek armour pushed through the crowd. He held a short staff in his left hand, and runes covered his armour. I knew him, of course: Alabaster Torrington, son of Hecate. I'd saved his life in the Labyrinth last summer, and in return, the son of a bitch had helped Kronos come back to life.

"Success, my lord," Torrington called. "We found him just as we were told."

He clapped his hands, and two giants lumbered forward, dragging Charles Beckendorf between them. My heart almost stopped. Beckendorf had a swollen eye and cuts all over his face and arms. His armour was gone and his shirt was nearly torn off.

"No!" I yelled. Oh gods, please no. Please, have mercy.

Beckendorf met my eyes. He glanced at his hand like he was trying to tell me something. His watch. They hadn't taken it yet, and that was the detonator. Was it possible the explosives were armed? Surely the monsters would've dismantled them right away.

"We found him amidships," one of the giants reported, "trying to sneak to the engine room. Can we eat him now?"

"Soon." Kronos scowled at Alabaster. "Are you sure he didn't set the explosives?"

"He was going _toward_ the engine room, my lord."

"How do you know that?"

"Er . . ." Alabaster shifted uncomfortably. "He was heading in that direction. And he told us. His bag is still full of explosives."

Slowly, I began to understand. Beckendorf had fooled them. When he'd realized he was going to be captured, he turned to make it look like he was going the other way. He'd convinced them he hadn't made it to the engine room yet. The Greek fire might still be primed! But that didn't do us any good unless we could get off the ship and detonate it.

I struggled to think of a solution. But with all of the monsters surrounding us, the two titans, and our injuries, I couldn't see how to get to Beckendorf and escape.

Kronos hesitated.

Buy the story, I prayed. The pain in my arm was so bad now I could barely stand.

"Open his bag," Kronos ordered. My heart sank in dismay.

One of the giants ripped the explosives satchel from Beckendorf's shoulders. He peered inside, grunted, and turned it upside down. Panicked monsters surged backward. If the bag really had been full of Greek fire jars, we would've all blown up. But what fell out were a dozen cans of peaches.

I could hear Kronos breathing, trying to control his anger.

"Did you, perhaps," he said, "capture this demigod near the galley?"

Torrington turned pale. "Um—"

"And did you, perhaps, send someone to actually CHECK THE ENGINE ROOM?"

Torrington scrambled back in terror, then turned on his heels and ran.

"Incompetent fool," Themis snapped. "Were it not for Hecate's favour towards him, I'd strike him down right now. Nevertheless." She turned to the two giants and snapped her fingers. They dissolved into dust. Before Beckendorf could make a move, three dracenae had surrounded him, tridents pointed towards his throat.

I cursed silently. Now we had only minutes before the bombs were disarmed. I caught Beckendorf's eyes again and asked a silent question, hoping he would understand: How long?

He cupped his fingers and thumb, making a circle. Zero. There was no delay on the timer at all. If he managed to press the detonator button, the ship would blow at once. We'd never be able to get far enough away before using it. The monsters would kill us first, or disarm the explosives, or both.

Kronos turned toward me with a crooked smile. "You'll have to excuse my incompetent help, Ana Jackson. But it doesn't matter. We have you now. We've known you were coming for weeks."

He held out his hand and dangled a little silver bracelet with a scythe charm—the Titan lord's symbol.

The wound in my arm was sapping my ability to think, but I muttered, "Communication device . . . spy at camp."

Kronos chuckled.

"It's foolish of you to be so trusting," Themis said idly. "People will always betray you, even those who claim to love you. Annabeth learned that lesson the hard way. But your naivety had been a great help for our cause."

I swallowed. The dracenae still had their weapons pointed at Beckendorf's neck. I was in no shape to rescue him, and even if I tried, he would die before I got there. We both would.

Beckendorf mouthed one word: Go.

I shook my head. I couldn't just leave him. This was Beckendorf! The guy who'd been one of the few who hadn't been intimidated by the tiny twelve-year-old with the fragile control over her enormous power. He'd been one of my closest friends for years. He was the love of Silena's life. I couldn't just abandon him. There had to be another way.

Although the weapons were at his neck, Beckendorf's left arm was free. He raised it slowly—toward the watch on his right wrist.

I wanted to scream, NO!

Then down by the swimming pool, one of the dracaenae hissed, "What isss he doing? What isss that on hisss wrissst?"

Beckendorf closed eyes tight and brought his hand up to his watch.

I had no choice. I threw my sword like a javelin at Kronos. It bounced harmlessly off his chest, but it did startle him. I pushed through a crowd of monsters and jumped off the side of the ship—toward the water a hundred feet below.

I heard rumbling deep in the ship. Monsters yelled at me from above. A spear sailed past my ear. An arrow pierced my thigh, but I barely had time to register the pain. I plunged into the sea and willed the currents to take me far, far away—a hundred yards, two hundred yards.

Even from that distance, the explosion shook the world. Heat seared the back of my head. The Princess Andromeda blew up from both sides, a massive fireball of green flame roiling into the dark sky, consuming everything.

Beckendorf, I thought, feeling despair claw at my mind.

Then I blacked out and sank like an anchor toward the bottom of the sea.


	2. I Visit My Father's Underwater City

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Two**

**I Visit My Father's Underwater City**

If I could give up one aspect of my heritage, it would probably be demigod dreams. The other stuff was crap, of course. But it was crap that I could cope with. Mostly. The dreams, on the other hand, were a unique and brutal form of torture, and I was always helpless to affect them.

This time, I dreamed I was in a dark palace at the top of a mountain. Unfortunately, I recognized it: the palace of the Titans on top of Mount Othrys, otherwise known as Mount Tamalpais, in California. My own personal hell.

The main pavilion was open to the night, ringed with black Greek columns and statues of the Titans. Torchlight glowed against the black marble floor. In the centre of the room, an armoured giant struggled under the weight of a swirling funnel cloud—Atlas, holding up the sky. It gave me a bitter sense of satisfaction to see him trapped, like he had done to me.

Two other giant men stood nearby over a bronze brazier, studying images in the flickering flames.

"Quite an explosion," one commented, sounding like he was talking about the weather. He wore black armour studded with silver dots like a starry night. His face was covered in a war helm with a ram's horn curling on either side.

"It doesn't matter," the other replied dismissively. This Titan was dressed in gold robes, with golden eyes like Kronos. His entire body glowed. He almost reminded me of Apollo, the God of the Sun, except the Titan's light was harsher, and his expression cruel instead of amused. "The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed."

The images in the fire were hard to make out, but what I could see was terrifying: storms, buildings crumbling, mortals screaming in terror.

"I will go east to marshal our forces," the golden Titan declared. "Krios, you shall remain and guard Mount Othrys."

The ram horn dude grunted. "I always get the stupid jobs. Lord of the South. Lord of Constellations. Now I get to babysit Atlas while you have all the fun."

Under the whirlwind of clouds, Atlas bellowed in agony, "Let me out, curse you! I am your greatest warrior. Take my burden so I may fight!"

"Quiet!" the golden Titan roared. "You had your chance, Atlas. You failed. Kronos likes you just where you are. As for you, Krios, do your duty."

"And if you need more warriors?" Krios asked. "Our treacherous nephew in the tuxedo will not do you much good in a fight."

The golden Titan laughed. "Don't worry about him. Besides, the gods can barely handle our first little challenge. They have no idea how many others we have in store. Mark my words, in a few days' time, Olympus will be in ruins, and we will meet here again to celebrate the dawn of the Sixth Age!"

The golden Titan erupted into flames and disappeared.

"Oh, sure," Krios grumbled. "He gets to erupt into flames. I get to wear these stupid ram's horns."

The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my friend Nico di'Angelo, the son of Hades. I bit back a groan at the sight of him, silently vowing to give him a sound punch next I saw him to try and knock some common sense into him.

I know he spent a lot of time in the Underworld and all, but honestly. Was he _trying_ to get himself killed?

He looked straight at me, his expression grim. "You see, Ana?" he whispered. "You're running out of time. Do you really think you can beat them without my plan?"

His words washed over me as cold as the ocean floor, and my dreams went black.

"Ana?" a deep voice said.

My head felt like it had been microwaved in aluminium foil. I opened my eyes and saw a large shadowy figure looming over me.

"Beckendorf?" I asked hopefully.

"No, sister."

My eyes refocused. I was looking at a Cyclops—a misshapen face, ratty brown hair, one big brown eye full of concern. "Tyson?"

My baby brother broke into a toothy grin. "Yay! Your brain works!"

I forced a smile. "'course it does," I assured him as I pushed myself up. To be truthful, though, I wasn't so sure. My body felt weightless and cold. My voice sounded wrong. I could hear Tyson, but it was more like I was hearing vibrations inside my skull, not the regular sounds.

As I sat up a gossamer sheet floated away. I was on a bed made of silky woven kelp, in a room panelled with abalone shell. Glowing pearls the size of basketballs floated around the ceiling, providing light. I was under water.

Now, being the daughter of Poseidon and all, I didn't have any problems with that. I can breathe underwater just fine, and my clothes don't even get wet unless I want them to. But it was still a bit of a shock when a hammerhead shark drifted through the bedroom window, regarded me, and then swam calmly out the opposite side of the room.

"Where—"

"Daddy's palace," Tyson explained.

I narrowly avoided groaning. Dealing with any gods, especially my father, was always on the bottom of my list of things to do, and today especially so. My head hurt. My shirt and jeans were still speckled with burn marks from the explosion. My arm and leg wounds had healed—just being in the ocean does that for me, given enough time—but I still felt like I'd been trampled by a Laistrygonian soccer team in cleats.

"How long—"

"We found you last night," Tyson informed me, "sinking through the water."

"The Princess Andromeda?"

"Went ka-boom," Tyson confirmed.

"Beckendorf was on board. Did you find . . ."

Tyson's face darkened. "No sign of him. I am sorry, sister."

I stared out the window into deep blue water, my eyes stinging. Beckendorf was supposed to go to college in the fall. He had a girlfriend, lots of friends, his whole life ahead of him. He couldn't be gone. Maybe he'd made it off the ship like I had. Maybe he'd jumped over the side and. . . what?

He couldn't have survived a hundred-foot fall into the water like I could. He couldn't have put enough distance between himself and the explosion.

No, there was no way to deny it. Beckendorf was dead. He was probably standing in line at the judgement pavilion in the Underworld, while I was up in the land of the living with my brother. I felt sick with self-hatred. I should've done something, figured out a way to save us both.

My thoughts wandered to the spy at camp, and my heart clenched in fury. If I ever got my hands on them, I'd make them pay for this. How many other missions over the past year had failed because the titans had known the details already? Speaking of details, only the council had known everything about Beckendorf and I's mission. Meaning that only one of the counsellors could be the spy.

But who? I knew them all, and I'd never peg any of them as a traitor. Why would they do such a thing? I couldn't understand it. Betrayal was anathema to me.

Then I thought about my dream: the Titans discussing the explosion as if it didn't matter, and Nico warning me that I would never beat Kronos without following his plan—a dangerous idea I'd been avoiding for more than a year. Anyway, there was no guarantee it would work. Still, the worse things got, the more I suspected that I would have to try.

A distant blast shook the room, breaking me from my grim thoughts. Green light blazed outside, turning the whole sea as bright as noon.

"What was that?" I asked sharply, automatically reaching up to my hair pin.

Tyson looked worried. "Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters."

The palace might have been the most beautiful place I'd ever seen if it hadn't been in the process of getting destroyed. We swam to the end of a long hallway and shot upward on a geyser. As we rose over the rooftops I caught my breath—well, if you can catch your breath underwater.

The palace was as big as the city on Mount Olympus, with wide courtyards, gardens, and columned pavilions. The gardens were sculpted with coral colonies and glowing sea plants. Twenty or thirty buildings were made of abalone, white but gleaming with rainbow colours. Fish and octopi darted in and out of the windows. The paths were lined with glowing pearls like Christmas lights.

The main courtyard was filled with warriors—mermen with fish tails from the waist down and human bodies from the waist up, except their skin was blue. They don't show you that in The Little Mermaid, that's for sure.

Some were tending the wounded. Some were sharpening spears and swords. One passed us, swimming in a hurry. His eyes were bright green, like that stuff they put in glow-sticks, and his teeth were shark teeth.

Outside the main courtyard stood large fortifications—towers, walls, and anti-siege weapons—but most of these had been smashed to ruins. Others were blazing with a strange green light that I knew well—Greek fire, which can burn even underwater.

Beyond this, the sea floor stretched into gloom. I could see battles raging—flashes of energy, explosions, the glint of armies clashing. A regular human would've found it too dark to see. Heck, a regular human would've been crushed by the pressure and frozen by the cold. Even I couldn't make out exactly what was going on.

At the edge of the palace complex, a temple with a red coral roof exploded, sending fire and debris streaming in slow motion across the farthest gardens. Out of the darkness above, an enormous form appeared—a squid larger than any skyscraper. It was surrounded by a glittering cloud of dust—at least I thought it was dust, until I realized it was a swarm of mermen trying to attack the monster. The squid descended on the palace and swatted its tentacles, smashing a whole column of warriors. Then a brilliant arc of blue light shot from the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings. The light hit the giant squid, and the monster dissolved like food colouring in water.

"Daddy," Tyson said, pointing to where the light had come from.

"He did that?" I had to admit, it was impressive. I'd never seen my father as a fighter, not with his laid-back aura and crocs, but he _was_ one of the most powerful gods in existence. He hadn't spent the First War hanging back and fishing.

"Have you been fighting?" I asked Tyson suddenly, the thought just occurring. It wasn't a pleasant one. I loved Tyson dearly, and even though I knew he was a capable fighter, I didn't like the thought of him being in danger. He was my baby brother, after all.

Tyson pouted, and immediately I knew I'd upset him, which answered my question. "I have been . . . fixing weapons," he mumbled. "Come. Let's go find Daddy."

Like basically every half-blood ever, my relationship with my father was, tense, to say the least. Granted, he'd told me last year, that I was his favourite child, but. Well, I had parent issues higher than Mount Olympus. Still, even though I could count the amount of times I had seen my father on one hand with fingers left over, I assumed I would recognize him.

I was wrong.

The roof of the temple was a big open deck that had been set up as a command centre. A mosaic on the floor showed an exact map of the palace grounds and the surrounding ocean, but the mosaic moved. Coloured stone tiles representing different armies and sea monsters shifted around as the forces changed position. Buildings that collapsed in real life also collapsed in the picture.

Standing around the mosaic, grimly studying the battle, was a strange assortment of warriors, but none of them looked like my dad. I was searching for a tall, strong man who seemed to be in his thirties with a good tan and a black beard. I was used to him wearing a Bermuda shirt and shorts, but I doubted that he'd be wearing that in the middle of a battle.

There was nobody like that. One guy was a merman with two fish tails instead of one. His skin was green, his armour studded with pearls. His black hair was tied in a ponytail, and he looked young—though it's hard to tell with non-humans. They could be a thousand years old or three. Standing next to him was an old man with a bushy white beard and grey hair. His battle armour seemed to weigh him down. He had green eyes and smile wrinkles around his eyes, but he wasn't smiling now. He was studying the map and leaning on a large metal staff. To his right stood a beautiful woman in green armour with flowing black hair and strange little horns like crab claws. And there was a dolphin—just a regular dolphin, but it was staring at the map intently.

"Delphin," the old man ordered. "Send Palaemon and his legion of sharks to the western front. We have to neutralize those leviathans."

The dolphin spoke in a chattering voice, but I could understand it in my mind: _Yes, lord! _It sped away.

I looked in dismay at Tyson, then back at the old man.

It didn't seem possible, but . . . "Father?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't think I'd ever initiated a conversation with him before. He'd always been the one to do it, while I forced down any bitter remarks and tried to pretend I didn't blame him for everything that had ever gone wrong in my mom's and I's lives.

The old man looked up. I recognized the twinkle in his eyes, but his face . . . he looked like he'd aged forty years. It shook me. I had never considered my father as anything less than the all-powerful god he had always been. Seeing like this frightened me. It almost made him seem vulnerable.

"Hello, Ana."

"You look awful," I blurted out, earning scornful sniffs from the two merpeople.

Tyson nudged me. He was shaking his head so hard I was afraid it would fall off, but Poseidon didn't look offended.

"It's all right," he said. "Ana, excuse my appearance. The war has been hard on me."

"But you're a god!" I protested. "You can look however you want."

"I reflect the state of my realm," he corrected me. "And right now that state is quite grim. Ana, I should introduce you—I'm afraid you just missed my lieutenant Delphin, God of the Dolphins. This is my, er, wife, Amphitrite. My dear—"

The woman in green armour stared at me coldly, then crossed her arms and said, "Excuse me, my lord. I am needed in the battle."

She swam away.

I felt pretty awkward, but I couldn't really blame her. I didn't like to think about it, but my father was married. I seriously doubted Amphitrite liked to see evidence of her husband's infidelities right in front of her. At least she didn't make any scathing comments about my audacity to be born, as if I'd chosen this. It was more than I could say for most immortals.

Poseidon cleared his throat. "Yes, well . . . and this is my son Triton."

"Your son and heir," the green dude corrected. His double fish tails swished back and forth. He smiled at me, but there was no friendliness in his eyes. "Hello, Anaea Jackson. Come to help at last?"

He acted like I was late or lazy. If he had wanted to embarrass me, he'd gone about it in the wrong way. Instead of feeling guilty, I just wanted to hit him.

I lifted my chin defiantly, knowing that my eyes had probably darkened to olive green, the way Luke said they did when I was pissed off. How dare he imply that I and, by default, my friends at Camp, had been doing nothing? Especially when Beckendorf was only just killed trying to stop Kronos.

It wasn't as if a god knew anything about real fear for your life. How could they, when they didn't die?

Only last summer, a quarter of our force had been killed in the Battle of the Labyrinth! And here Triton was, spitting on the sacrifices they'd made so he and the rest of the gods could keep their power.

The room shook softly with the force of my rage as I glowered at him.

"Well I've been a little busy trying to keep Olympus from being destroyed," I bit out coldly. "It won't do the West any good if its' seat of power is destroyed. Priorities, you know?"

I knew I was being disrespectful, and making it sound as if losing Atlantis wouldn't be a catastrophe. In fact, losing Atlantis would be a tragedy, especially for the warriors defending it. But I was pissed off.

Poseidon held out a hand, looking stern. "That is enough," he declared firmly. "Ana is needed on land, and she is doing her part in this war, just as the rest of us are. Triton, go to the frontline. I must speak with Ana."

Triton cast me an irritated look that I returned with a coldly sweet smile edged with smugness, before he bowed to our father, nodded to Tyson, and swam off.

I let go of my anger as soon as he was gone, and the floor steadied. I really needed to get a handle on that. It was new, which was my sole excuse for my sloppy control.

Poseidon sighed. He raised his staff, and it changed into his regular weapon—a huge three-pointed trident. The tip glowed with blue light, and the water around it boiled with energy.

"I'm sorry about that," he told me.

A huge sea serpent appeared from above us and spiralled down toward the roof. It was bright orange with a fanged mouth big enough to swallow a gymnasium.

Hardly looking up, Poseidon pointed his trident at the beast and zapped it with blue energy. Ka-boom! The monster burst into a million goldfish, which all swam off in terror.

"My family is anxious," Poseidon continued as if nothing had happened. "The battle against Oceanus is going poorly."

He pointed to the edge of the mosaic. With the butt of his trident he tapped the image of a merman larger than the rest, with the horns of a bull. He appeared to be riding a chariot pulled by crawfish, and instead of a sword he wielded a live serpent.

"Oceanus," I said slowly, trying to remember the details of the titan instead of pointing out that things weren't doing too well on the surface either. "The Titan of the sea? He was neutral, wasn't he?"

Poseidon nodded. "In the first war of gods and Titans, yes. But Kronos has convinced him to fight. This is . . . well, it's not a good sign. Oceanus would not commit unless he was sure he could pick the winning side."

"Daddy will tie bad titan's snake in knots," Tyson insisted. I gave him a strained smile. Tyson was so sweet and naïve, it was hard to believe sometimes.

"Of course he will," I murmured, not taking my gaze off of the mosaic.

Poseidon smiled, but he looked weary. "I appreciate your faith. We have been at war almost a year now. My powers are taxed. And still he finds new forces to throw at me—sea monsters so ancient I had forgotten about them."

I heard an explosion in the distance. About half a mile away, a mountain of coral disintegrated under the weight of two giant creatures. I could dimly make out their shapes. One was a huge lobster. The other was a giant humanoid like a Cyclops, but he was surrounded by a flurry of limbs. At first I thought he wearing a bunch of giant octopi. Then I realized they were his own arms—a hundred flailing, fighting arms.

"Briares!" I exclaimed.

I was happy to see him, but he looked like he was fighting for his life. He was the last of his kind—a Hundred-Handed One, cousin of the Cyclopes. We'd saved him from Kronos' prison last summer, and I knew he'd come to help Poseidon, but I hadn't heard of him since.

"He fights well," Poseidon said. "I wish we had a whole army like him, but he is the only one."

I watched as Briares bellowed in rage and picked up the lobster, which thrashed and snapped its pincers. He threw it off the coral mountain, and the lobster disappeared into the darkness. Briares swam after it, his hundred arms spinning like the blades of a motorboat.

"Ana, we may not have much time," my father told me seriously. "Tell me of your mission. Did you see Kronos?"

I told him everything, though my voice choked up when I explained about Beckendorf. I looked down at the courtyards below and saw hundreds of wounded mermen lying on makeshift cots. I saw rows of coral mounds that must've been hastily made graves.

Beckendorf wasn't the first death, even in Camp Half-Blood. He was only one of hundreds, maybe thousands. Seven other demigods had been killed on missions in the past three months.

I'd never felt so angry and helpless as I did, staring down at the graves. I loathed Annabeth and Ethan now more than ever. They claimed that they wanted better lives for half-bloods, but all they had done was make things so, so much worse.

Poseidon stroked his beard. "Ana, Beckendorf chose a heroic death. You bear no blame for that. Kronos's army will be in disarray. Many were destroyed."

"But we didn't kill him, did we?"

As I said it, I knew it was a naïve hope. We might blow up his ship and disintegrate his monsters, but a Titan lord wouldn't be so easy to kill. Damn him.

"No," Poseidon admitted. "But you've bought our side some time."

"Like an hour?" I muttered with bitter sarcasm. "There were demigods on that ship," I added, thinking of the kid I'd seen in the stairwell.

Somehow I'd allowed myself to concentrate on the monsters and Kronos while we planned. I'd convinced myself that destroying their ship was all right because they were evil, they were sailing to attack my city, and besides, they couldn't really be permanently killed. Monsters just vaporized and re-formed eventually. But demigods . . .

Poseidon put his hand on my shoulder. "Ana, there were only a few demigod warriors aboard that ship, and they all chose to battle for Kronos. Perhaps some heeded your warning and escaped. If they did not . . . they chose their path."

I felt a jolt of anger towards him. Of course, he didn't care. He was a god. "They were brainwashed!" I snapped at him. "Now they're dead and Kronos is still alive. That's supposed to make me feel better?"

I glared at the mosaic—little tile explosions destroying tile monsters. It seemed so easy when it was just a picture.

Tyson put his arm around me. If anybody else had tried that, I would've pushed him away and broken his nose, but Tyson was too big and stubborn. He hugged me whether I wanted it or not. "Not your fault, sister. Kronos does not explode good. Next time we will use a big stick."

I let out a mixture of a sob and snort, leaning in to him.

"Ana," my father said. "Beckendorf's sacrifice wasn't in vain. You have scattered the invasion force. New York will be safe for a time, which frees the other Olympians to deal with the bigger threat."

"The bigger threat?" I thought about what the golden Titan had said in my dream: The gods have answered the challenge. Soon they will be destroyed. My stomach sank. "What's that?"

A shadow passed over my father's face. "You've had enough sorrow for one day. Ask Chiron when you return to camp."

I set my jaw, battling my frustration. I hated when information I needed was kept from me. It always ended badly. But I knew that there was no point in pressing him. "You're not going to hold out here much longer," I pointed out darkly instead, glancing out the window again.

A fireball launched into the sky from behind the enemy lines. I expected to Poseidon deflect it or something, but it landed on the outer corner of the yard and exploded, sending mermen tumbling through the water. Poseidon winced as if he'd just been stabbed. It was a small, but significant hint as to my father's current state.

"Return to camp," he insisted. "And tell Chiron it is time."

"For what?"

"You must hear the prophecy. The entire prophecy."

I didn't need to ask him which prophecy. I'd been hearing about the "Great Prophecy" for years, but nobody would ever tell me the whole thing. All I knew was that on my sixteenth birthday I was supposed to make a decision that would decide the fate of the world—but no pressure.

"So I should just leave?" I protested. It went against all my instincts. Whatever my feelings towards my father, leaving him (and especially Tyson and the innocent merpeople defending their home), made me feel sick with disgust.

"Ana, you must go," Poseidon insisted. "I don't know what your final decision will be, but your fight lies in the world above. If nothing else, you must warn your friends at camp. Kronos knew your plans. You have a spy. We will hold here. We have no choice."

Tyson gripped my hand desperately. "I will miss you, sister!"

Watching us, our father seemed to age another ten years. "Tyson, you have work to do as well, my son. They need you in the armoury."

Tyson pouted some more.

"I will go," he sniffled. He hugged me so hard he almost cracked my ribs. "Ana, be careful! Do not let monsters kill you dead!"

"' course not, Baby," I tried to nod confidently, but it was too much for him. He sobbed and swam away toward the armoury, where his cousins were fixing spears and swords.

"You should let him fight," I told my father. "He hates being stuck in the armoury. He wants to help. Can't you tell?" Despite my words, I didn't really mean it. I'd rather Tyson be safe and upset than dead in any way.

Poseidon shook his head. "It is bad enough I must send you into danger. Tyson is too young. I must protect him."

"I was younger," I pointed out flatly. "You weren't concerned then."

It was true. I'd been twelve when my father had claimed me, solely to send me on a dangerous quest to the Underworld to prevent World War III breaking out. Most of the time, I wanted to wish I'd been left unclaimed. Only the fact that thousands would've died kept me from doing so.

Poseidon's eyes flared. For a second I thought I'd gone too far, but then he looked down at the mosaic and his shoulders sagged. On the tiles, the mermaid guy in the crawfish chariot was coming closer to the palace.

"Oceanus approaches," my father stated. "I must meet him in battle."

I'd never been scared for a god before, but I didn't see how my dad could face this Titan and win.

"I will hold," Poseidon promised. "I will not give up my domain. Just tell me, Ana, do you still have the birthday gift I gave you last summer?"

I nodded and pulled out my camp necklace. It had a bead for every summer I'd been at Camp Half-Blood, but since last year I'd also kept a sand dollar on the cord. My father had given it to me for my fifteenth birthday. He'd told me I would know when to "spend it," but so far I hadn't figured out what he meant. I was hoping the answer would suddenly spring to mind just in time, like usual.

"The time is coming," he promised. "With luck, I will see you for your birthday next week, and we will have a proper celebration."

He smiled, and for a moment I saw the old light in his eyes.

Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll through the armies below us.

"I must assume my true godly form," Poseidon said. "Go—and good luck, my daughter."

I felt like I should say something, but I knew better than to stick around. When a god assumes his true form, the power is so great that any mortal looking on him will disintegrate.

I bowed instead. "Good-bye, Father," I managed.

Then I turned away. I willed the ocean currents to aid me. Water swirled around me, and I shot toward the surface at speeds that would've caused any normal human to pop like a balloon.

When I looked back, all I could see were flashes of green and blue as my father fought the Titan, and the sea itself was torn apart by the two armies.


	3. I Get a Grim Foretelling

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. **

**AN: several people have asked about Ana's hand, mentioned in BotL. Okay, it's not super important, but in my story, when Ana was captured, she was tortured in an attempt to make her turn on Olympus. Atlas crushed the bones in her left hand irreparably, and as such it was amputated and replaced with a Celestial Bronze prosthetic. The fingers can turn into claws. Like I said, I don't think it'll be very relevant save for giving Ana a slightly bigger edge. It just popped into my head and thus into my story. And yes, I know that people were hoping Beckendorf would live, but not everyone survives a war, and it's easier for me to let RR choose who dies than do it myself. I love 'em all too much.**

**Chapter Three**

**I Get a Grim Foretelling (Like Most)**

Word of my arrival spread as soon as I walked out of the ocean. Our beach is on the North Shore of Long Island, and it's enchanted so most people can't even see it. People don't just appear on the beach unless they're demigods or gods or really, really lost pizza delivery guys. (It's happened—but that's another story.)

Anyway, that afternoon the lookout on duty was Connor. When he spotted me, he got so excited he fell out of his tree. Then he blew the conch horn to signal the camp and ran to greet me.

"Ana!" he yelled, wearing a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humour. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?"

Then he saw my expression, and his smile melted away. "Oh, no. Poor Silena. Holy Zeus, when she finds out . . ."

I flinched but didn't reply. Together we climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred yards away, people were already streaming toward us, smiling and excited. Nobody except the council knew the details of the mission, but all of them knew that we were hoping it would prevent New York being invaded. They probably expected my arrival meant it was successful, which it technically was. I had never failed a mission before, and losing Beckendorf made it feel like failure. Not to mention it had only delayed, and not stopped, the coming invasion.

I stopped at the dining pavilion and waited for them. Beckendorf was very loved here, and I cowardly wanted to delay announcing what had happened to him. How would I tell Silena?

While waiting, I gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time I ever saw it. That seemed like a million years ago. I had just been a regular demigod back then. Now, I was the de facto leader of the camp, and the apparent subject of the Great Prophecy. I wished I could go back in time to when I was twelve and freeze my life in that moment.

From the dining pavilion, you could see pretty much everything. Hills ringed the valley. On the tallest, Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree stood with the Golden Fleece hanging from its branches, magically protecting the camp from its enemies. The guard dragon Peleus was so big now I could see him from here—curled around the tree trunk, lending up smoke signals as he snored.

To my right spread the woods. To my left, the canoe lake glittered and the climbing wall glowed from the lava pouring down its side. Twelve cabins—one for each Olympian Counsellor—made a horseshoe pattern around the commons area. Farther south were the strawberry fields, the armoury, and the four-story Big House with its sky-blue paint job and its bronze eagle weathervane.

In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields. You could see it in the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill.

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come back. Some had died fighting. Others—we tried not to talk about them—had gone over to the enemy.

The remainder were much grimmer than before. Everyone was battle-hardened and weary. There was little laughter at camp these days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks. It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one. Scars and injuries in various stages of healing littered people's bodies, to the point that it was stranger to see someone without than with. Even the little kids carried weapons 24/7, and most people wore armour, ready to rush into battle at a moment's notice.

My heart clenched when I spotted Harley Riker, the eight-year-old son of Hephaestus, climbing the hill. His solemn attitude would've fitted a World War II veteran. He'd arrived five months ago, after my friend Will Solace and Mark Hardman, a son of Ares, preformed a rescue mission after an urgent request from Harley's satyr protector. They'd been too late to save his mother, who'd died shielding her son from the empousa trying to kill him. Harley had been quickly claimed by Hephaestus and latched onto Beckendorf immediately. He was going to be devastated.

Chiron galloped into the pavilion first, which was easy for him since he's a white stallion from the waist down. His beard had grown wilder over the summer. He wore a green T-shirt that said MY OTHER CAR IS A CENTAUR and a bow slung over his back.

"Ana!" he cried, looking relieved. "Thank the gods. But where . . ."

Luke ran past him. He was pale and stressed-looking, like everybody else. His hair had been shaved after a recent encounter with a dragon had singed it badly, and he had a breast-plate on over his camp t-shirt and battered jeans. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"Ariel, thank the gods," he exclaimed. He scanned me anxiously, holding me in place by the forearms. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, the ocean healed me," I replied softly. "The ship was destroyed but-" I didn't get the chance to finish.

Silena pushed through the crowd. Her hair wasn't combed and she wasn't even wearing makeup, which wasn't like her.

"Where's Charlie?" she demanded, looking around like he might be hiding.

I glanced at Chiron helplessly.

The old centaur cleared his throat. "Silena, my dear, let's talk about this at the Big House—"

"No," she muttered. "No. No."

She started to cry, and the rest of us stood around, too stunned to speak. We'd already lost so many people over the summer, but this was the worst. With Beckendorf gone, it felt like someone had stolen the anchor for the entire camp. It was made worse by Silena's empathy, a power certain children of Aphrodite had. She could both feel others' emotions and project her own. Right now, from the sudden burst of raw grief I was feeling, causing my eyes to sting with unshed tears, I was pretty sure she was doing so unintentionally.

Finally Clarisse came forward. She put her arm around Silena. They'd been best friends as long as I'd known them. And since last summer, when Silena helped Clarisse attract her boyfriend Chris, Clarisse had essentially become her personal bodyguard.

Clarisse was dressed in her bloodred combat armour, her brown hair tucked into a bandana. She was as tall and muscular, with pretty features in spite of the permanent scowl on her face, and she spoke gently to Silena.

"Come on, girl," she urged. "Let's get to the Big House. I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Everybody dispersed, all cheer gone. Blowing up the ship wasn't worth Beckendorf's life. That was my opinion, and I was positive everyone else agreed.

Chiron and Luke stayed behind, Luke giving me a side-hug.

"Not your fault, Ariel," he muttered into my messy brunette waves. I didn't reply, leaning my head against his chest. His steady heartbeat was a comfort.

Chiron put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could, Ana. Will you tell us what happened?"

I didn't want to go through it again, but I told them the story, including my dream about the Titans. I left out the detail about Nico. Nico had made me promise not to tell anybody about his plan until I made up my mind, and the plan was so terrifying and insane that I didn't mind keeping it a secret.

Chiron gazed down at the valley. "We must call a war council immediately, to discuss this spy, and other matters."

"Poseidon mentioned another threat," I informed him. "Something even bigger than the Princess Andromeda. I thought it might be that challenge the Titan had mentioned in my dream."

Chiron and Luke exchanged looks, like they knew something I didn't. I hated when they did that.

"Something happened while I was gone, didn't it?" I asked, more of a resigned statement than an actual question. I'd protested leaving to spend a week with Rachel in the first place, but my friends had insisted I take the chance to have a break. Given there was only a few days left until I turned sixteen, it would probably be my last one ever.

"We will discuss that also," Chiron promised.

"One more thing." I took a deep breath. "When I talked to my father, he said to tell you it's time. I need to know the full prophecy."

Chiron's shoulders sagged, but he didn't look surprised. "I've dreaded this day. Very well. Luke, we will show Ana the truth—all of it. Let's go to the attic."

I'd been to the Big House attic twice before, which was two times more than I wanted to.

A ladder led up from the top of the staircase. I wondered how Chiron was going to get up there, being half horse and all, but he didn't try.

"You know where it is," he told Luke. "Bring it down, please."

Luke nodded tensely. His jaw was tight. "Come on, Ana."

The sun was setting outside, so the attic was even darker and creepier than usual. Old hero trophies were slacked everywhere—dented shields, pickled heads in jars from various monsters, a pair of fuzzy dice on a bronze plaque that read: STOLEN FROM CHRYSAOR'S HONDA CIVIC, BY GUS, SON OF HERMES, 1988.

I picked up a curved bronze sword so badly bent it looked like the letter M. I could still see green stains on the metal from the magical poison that used to cover it. The tag was dated last summer. It read: Scimitar of Kampê, destroyed in the Battle of the Labyrinth.

"You remember Briares throwing those boulders?" I asked. It wasn't a _good_ memory, but it was one of relief. After Kampê's death, Grover had summoned the power of Pan, and the invading army had fled, letting us claim victory for the day.

Luke gave me a weak smirk. "And the army running like the hounds of hell were at their heels."

"As I recall, the hellhounds _were_ at the back," I replied cheekily. He gave a small chuckle that quickly faded away.

We locked eyes. I thought of a different time last summer, under Mount St. Helens, when I thought I was about to die and kissed him. It had been hanging between us ever since.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Prophecy."

"Right," I muttered, my stomach clenching.

We walked over to the window. On a three-legged stool sat the Oracle—a shrivelled female mummy in a tie-dyed dress. Tufts of black hair clung to her skull. Glassy eyes stared out of her leathery face. Just looking at her made me shudder.

If you wanted to leave camp during the summer, it used to be you had to come up here to get a quest. This summer, that rule had been tossed. Campers left all the time on combat missions. We had no choice if we wanted to stop Kronos.

Still, I remembered too well the strange green mist—the spirit of the Oracle—that lived inside the mummy. She looked lifeless now, but whenever she spoke a prophecy, she moved. Sometimes fog gushed out of her mouth and created strange shapes. Once, when Artemis and I were captured, she'd even left the attic and taken a little zombie stroll into the woods to deliver a message. I wasn't sure what she'd do for the "Great Prophecy" and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

But she just sat there like she was dead—which she was.

"I never understood that," I whispered.

"What?" Luke's voice was low too. It always felt wrong to speak too loudly around her. Disrespectful, or something.

"Why she's a mummy. She wasn't back in Ancient Greece."

Luke shrugged. "For thousands of years the spirit of the Oracle lived inside a beautiful maiden," he informed me. "The spirit would be passed on from generation to generation. Chiron told me she was like that fifty years ago." He pointed at the mummy. "But she was the last."

"What happened?"

"Dunno," Luke answered tensely. "Let's just finish up and go."

I looked nervously at the Oracle's withered face. "So what now?"

Luke approached the mummy and held out his palms. "Oh Oracle, the time is at hand. I ask for the Great Prophecy."

I braced myself, but the mummy didn't stir. Instead, Luke approached and carefully unclasped one of its necklaces. I'd never paid too much attention to its jewellery before. I figured it was just hippie love beads and stuff. But when Luke turned toward me, he was holding a leather pouch—like a Native American medicine pouch on a cord braided with feathers. He opened the bag and took out a roll of parchment no bigger than my pinky.

I scowled furiously, and took a deep breath to keep from losing control of my powers. "Are you telling me?" I began in a soft, furious tone, "That all these years I've been asking about this damn prophecy, and it's been right there around her neck the entire time?"

"Ana, it's not any old prophecy," Luke replied firmly. "Believe me, I've been having nightmares about it for years. Be glad you didn't see it before now."

"Sure," I scoffed. "Can I read it now?"

"Downstairs at the war council," Luke insisted. "Not in front of . . . you know." He jerked his head at the Oracle, and I gave a curt nod of agreement. We headed downstairs to join the others. I didn't know it then, but it would be the last time I ever visited the attic.

The senior counsellors had gathered around the Ping-Pong table. Don't ask me why, but the rec room had become the camp's informal headquarters for war councils. When Luke, Chiron, and I came in, though, it looked more like a shouting match.

Clarisse was still in full battle gear. Her electric spear was strapped to her back and she had her boar-shaped helmet under one arm and a knife at her belt.

She was in the midst of yelling at Michael Yew, the new head counsellor for Apollo, which looked kind of funny since Clarisse was a foot taller. Michael had taken over the Apollo cabin after Lee Fletcher died in the Battle of the Labyrinth last summer. Michael stood at four feet six, with another two feet of attitude. I'd never say it out loud, but he reminded me a bit of a ferret, with a pointy nose and scrunched-up features—either because he scowled so much or because he spent too much time looking down the shaft of an arrow.

"It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!"

Around the table, people were trying not to laugh—Malcolm Pace from Athena's cabin, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, Katie Gardner from Demeter. Even Jake Mason, the hastily appointed new counsellor from Hephaestus, managed a faint smile. Only Silena didn't pay any attention. She sat beside Clarisse and stared vacantly at the Ping-Pong net. Her eyes were red and puffy. A cup of hot chocolate sat untouched in front of her. It seemed unfair that she had to be here. I couldn't believe Clarisse and Michael standing over her, arguing about something as stupid as loot, when she'd just lost Beckendorf. I was going to kill them both.

"Knock it off!" I bellowed furiously, storming over and forcing them both to separate by several steps. I glared between them. "Is this about that stupid chariot you guys found last month?"

Michael nodded. "It's our loot!" he insisted.

"You're such a selfish prick!" Clarisse snarled back at him.

I scoffed and unsheathed the knife at my belt, jabbing it towards them both.

"I don't give a fuck about the thing!" I hissed. "We have bigger problems than some flying chariot. Worry about the damn thing once the war is over. But if I hear one more word about it, I'll break your jaws! And then I'll burn the bloody thing too!"

They both looked sullen, but Michael nodded in acceptance. Clarisse looked like she was going to argue, but Silena let out a sob, and she instantly turned her back on the rest of us, embracing her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I shouldn't've gotten into this when you've just lost-. I'm sorry, 'Lena."

"Now," Chiron interrupted, taking advantage of the argument's end. "If you please, counsellors. Ana has brought something I think you should hear. Ana—the Great Prophecy."

Luke handed me the parchment. It felt dry and old, and my fingers fumbled with the string. I uncurled the paper, trying not to rip it, and began to read:

"A half-blood of the eldest dogs . . ."

"Uh, Ana?" Luke interrupted. "That's _gods_. Not dogs."

"Oh, right," I said. Being dyslexic is one mark of a demigod, but I really hate it. The more nervous I am, the worse my reading gets. "A half-blood of the eldest gods . . . shall reach sixteen against all odds . . ."

I hesitated, staring at the next lines. A cold feeling started in my fingers as if the paper was freezing. I could taste the bile in my mouth.

"And see the world in endless sleep,

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

Suddenly my hairpin seemed heavy from its place in my bangs. A cursed blade? Chiron had once told me that Anaklusmos had brought many people sorrow. Was it possible my own sword could get me killed? And how could the world fall into endless sleep, unless that meant death?

"Ana," Chiron urged. "Read the rest."

My mouth felt like it was full of sand, but I spoke the last two lines.

"A single choice shall. . . shall end their days.

Olympus to per—pursue—"

"Preserve," Chiron said gently. "It means to save."

"I know what it means," I grumbled. "Olympus to preserve or raze."

The room was silent. Finally Michael said tentatively, "Raise is good, isn't it?"

"Not raise," Silena said. Her voice was hollow, but I was startled to hear her speak at all. "R-a-z-e means destroy."

"Obliterate," Malcolm clarified. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."

"Got it." My heart felt like lead. "Thanks."

Everybody was looking at me—with concern, or pity, or maybe a little fear. I felt light-headed. It was all real now.

Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. In horse form, his head almost brushed the lights in the rec room. "You see now, Ana, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've had enough on your shoulders—"

"Well, it's not as if it's telling me anything unexpected, is it?" I cut in sharply. "I already knew I'd make a choice that'd get me killed. This isn't a surprise, Chiron."

Chiron gazed at me sadly. The guy was three thousand years old. He'd seen hundreds of heroes die. He might not like it, but he was used to it. He probably knew better than to try to reassure me.

"You don't know you'll die," Luke protested, looking stricken. "Prophecies are only ever clear after happening. It might not mean that you'll literally _die_."

"Right," I scoffed. "A single choice shall end their days. That has tons of meanings."

"Maybe we can stop it," Jake suggested. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. Maybe we could find this cursed blade and destroy it. Sounds like Kronos' scythe, right?"

I hadn't thought about that, but it didn't matter if the cursed blade was Anaklusmos or Kronos' scythe or a weapon we hadn't thought of yet. Either way, I doubted we could stop the prophecy. A blade was supposed to reap my soul. As a general rule, I preferred not to have my soul reaped. I was kinda fond of it, you know?

"Perhaps we should let Ana think about these lines," Chiron said. "She needs time—"

"No." I folded up the prophecy and shoved it into my pocket. I felt defiant and angry, though I wasn't sure who I was angry with. Knowing me, probably the gods. "I don't need time. If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right? The Fates will decide. We need to focus on the war."

Luke's hands were trembling a little. He wouldn't look at me, intent on the ping-pong table.

"Let's move on," I said. "We've got other problems. We've got a spy."

Clarisse swore and punched the wall, while Michael scowled. "A spy?"

I told them what had happened on the Princess Andromeda—how Kronos had known we were coming, how he'd shown me the silver scythe pendant he'd used to communicate with someone at camp.

Silena started to cry again, and Clarisse put an arm around her shoulders again. "It'll be okay," she told her gently. "We'll find the bastard and gut 'em for this."

That only made Silena cry harder, her body shaking from the force of her sobs.

"Well," Michael said uncomfortably, "we've suspected there might a spy for years, right? Somebody kept passing information to Ethan and Annabeth—like the location of the Golden Fleece a couple of years ago. It must be somebody who knew them well. A friend."

Maybe subconsciously, they all glanced at Luke. Luke had known Annabeth better than anyone, of course, having raised her, and he was Ethan's counsellor, but everyone looked away quickly.

"Um, I mean, it could be anybody," he continued quickly.

"Yes." Katie raised her chin defiantly and looked pointedly at Malcolm. "Like one of Annabeth's siblings."

Arguing erupted, everyone accusing each other and their cabin-mates of being the traitor. I got into it myself, defending the accusations made towards Luke.

Despite my temper, I managed to keep from revealing my suspicions that it was probably a councillor. It would only worsen the divides forming, and possibly put the spy on their guard.

"Stop!" Silena banged the table so hard her hot chocolate spilled, though it had long-since gone cold and started to curdle. "Charlie's dead and . . . and you're all arguing like little kids!" She put her head down and began to sob.

Chocolate liquid trickled off the Ping-Pong table. Everybody looked ashamed.

"She's right," Pollux said at last. "Accusing each other doesn't help. We need to keep our eyes open for a silver necklace with a scythe charm. If Kronos had one, the spy probably does too."

Michael grunted. "We need to find this spy before we plan our next operation. Blowing up the Princess Andromeda won't stop Kronos forever."

"No indeed," Chiron agreed. "In fact his next assault is already on the way."

I scowled. "You mean the 'bigger threat' Poseidon mentioned?"

He and Luke looked at each other like, It's time. Did I mention I hate it when they do that?

"Ana," Chiron said gently, "we didn't want to tell you until you returned to camp. You needed a break with your mortal friends."

"Tell me what's happened," I demanded, clenching my hands into fists. I could feel my ragged nails digging into my palms.

Chiron picked up a bronze goblet from the snack table. He tossed water onto the hot plate where we usually melted nacho cheese. Steam billowed up, making a rainbow in the fluorescent lights. Chiron fished a golden drachma out of his pouch, tossed it through the mist, and muttered, "O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show us the threat."

The mist shimmered. I saw the familiar image of a smouldering volcano—Mount St. Helens. As I watched, the side of the mountain exploded. Fire, ash, and lava rolled out. A newscaster's voice was saying "—even larger than last year's eruption, and geologists warn that the mountain may not be done."

I knew all about last year's eruption. I'd caused it, and nearly died in the process. But this explosion was much, much worse. The mountain tore itself apart, collapsing inward, and an enormous form rose out of the smoke and lava like it was emerging from a manhole. I hoped the Mist would keep the humans from seeing it clearly, because what I saw would've caused panic and riots across the entire United States.

The giant was bigger than anything I'd ever encountered. Even my demigod eyes couldn't make out its exact form through the ash and fire, but it was vaguely humanoid and so huge it could've used the Chrysler Building as a baseball bat. The mountain shook with a horrible rumbling, as if the monster were laughing.

"It's him," I stated flatly. "Typhon."

I was seriously hoping Chiron would deny it, but no such luck. He simply nodded. "The most horrible monster of all, the biggest single threat the gods ever faced. He has been freed from under the mountain at last. But this scene is from two days ago. Here is what is happening today."

Chiron waved his hand and the image changed. I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path—ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys.

"Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction." The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. I couldn't tell which one.

Inside the storm I could see the giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast.

Other smaller forms darted through the clouds, circling the monster. I saw flashes of light, and I realized the giant was trying to swat them. I squinted and thought I saw a golden chariot flying into the blackness. Then some kind of huge bird—a monstrous owl—dived in to attack the giant.

"Are those . . . the gods?" I asked.

"Yes, Ana," Chiron confirmed. "They have been fighting him for days now, trying to slow him down. But Typhon is marching forward—toward New York. Toward Olympus."

I let that sink in. "How long until he gets here?"

"Unless the gods can stop him? Perhaps five days. Most of the Olympians are there . . . except your father, who has a war of his own to fight."

"But then who's guarding Olympus?"

Luke shook his head, a bleak expression on his face. "If Typhon gets to New York, it won't matter who's guarding Olympus."

I thought about Kronos' words on the ship: I would love to see the terror in your eyes when you realize how I will destroy Olympus.

Was this what he was talking about: an attack by Typhon? It was sure terrifying enough. But Kronos was always fooling us, misdirecting our attention. This seemed too obvious for him. And in my dream, the golden Titan had talked about several more challenges to come, as if Typhon were only the first.

"It's a trick," I stated urgently. "We have to warn the gods. Something else is going to happen."

Chiron looked at me gravely. "Something worse than Typhon? I hope not."

"We have to defend Olympus," I insisted. "Kronos has another attack planned."

"He did," Katie reminded me. "But you sunk his ship."

Everyone was looking at me. They wanted some good news. They wanted to believe that at least I'd given them a little bit of hope.

I glanced at Luke. I could tell we were thinking the same thing: What if the Princess Andromeda was a ploy? What if Kronos let us blow up that ship so we'd lower our guard?

But I wasn't going to say that in front of Silena. The love of her life had sacrificed himself for that mission.

"Maybe you're right," I murmured, though I didn't believe it.

I tried to imagine how things could get much worse. The gods were in the Midwest fighting a huge monster that had almost defeated them once before. Poseidon was under siege and losing a war against the sea Titan Oceanus. Kronos was still out there somewhere. Olympus was virtually undefended. The demigods of Camp Half-Blood were on our own with a spy in our midst.

Oh, and according to the ancient prophecy, I was going to die making a decision that would decide the fate of the world when I turned sixteen—which happened to be in five days, the exact same time Typhon was supposed to hit New York. Almost forgot that part.

"Well," Chiron said, "I think that's enough for one night."

He waved his hand and the steam dissipated. The stormy battle of Typhon and the gods disappeared.

"That's an understatement," I muttered.

And the war council adjourned.


	4. We Burn Another Shroud

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Four**

**We Burn Another Shroud**

I dreamed that Rachel was in her bedroom/penthouse floor, staring at a portrait she'd done of me that I hadn't seen before. Her paint-stained eyebrow was scrunched up in worry and unhappiness. Then she walked to the easel next to it, which was covered in a sheet.

"Please, gods, let them just be bad dreams," she muttered as she uncovered the easel. On it was a hastily sketched charcoal, but Rachel was a good artist.

The picture was definitely Ethan and Annabeth, as young children. Annabeth looked around seven, probably around the time that she had run away, and she was missing a tooth. Both of Ethan's eyes were whole. I had no idea how Rachel could've known what either of them looked like back then, but the portrait was so good I had a feeling she wasn't guessing.

Rachel stared at the portrait. Then she uncovered the next easel. This picture was even more disturbing. It showed the Empire State Building with lightning all around it. In the distance a dark storm was brewing, with a huge hand coming out of the clouds. At the base of the building a crowd had gathered . . . but it wasn't a normal crowd of tourists and pedestrians. I saw spears, javelins, and banners—the trappings of an army.

"Ana," Rachel muttered, as if she knew I was listening, "what is going on?"

The dream faded away, and the last thing I remember was wishing I could answer her question.

The next morning, I wanted to call her, but there were no phones at camp. Dionysus and Chiron didn't bother with phones, just IMing whomever they wanted to speak to. And a demigod using tech was essentially sending up a flare, alerting every monster within range where they were. As such, phones were prohibited at Camp. Some people had them, but only to contact family members who didn't know the truth about their heritage, and they're use was carefully regulated by Chiron.

Basically, contact with Rachel was a no-go. And, horrid as it sounded, her strangely prophetic-sounding dreams weren't exactly my top priority right now.

I spent breakfast shoving my food around my plate. I managed a few mouthfuls, but everything tasted like sawdust and made my stomach churn. I gave up quickly and sacrificed the rest in segments to each of the gods, hoping it might give them a bit of a boost in their battles.

Then Luke and I rendezvoused to help each other with our assigned chores for the day, like we usually did. I was supposed to be sorting through reports for Chiron, and Luke was meant to be inspecting the cabins.

I got why the messages were important to stay on top of, but why we needed to be worrying about whether or not our rooms were tidy when the world was about to end, I wasn't sure.

We started at my cabin. It was neat enough, save for my desk and unmade bed. My desk was covered in disorganized sheets, knick-knacks and a knife, and my bed was a mess of sheets from my constant twisting during the night. Other than that, I was okay, so we decided to give me a three out of five.

"Sleep badly?" Luke asked mildly as we left.

I shrugged, my expression flattening. "Who isn't, nowadays?"

"Touché," he mumbled.

I tried to skim through Chiron's stack of reports as we walked. There were messages from demigods, nature spirits, and satyrs all around the country, writing about the latest monster activity. They were pretty depressing, and I was in a bad enough mood without hearing how terribly everything was going for us.

Little battles were raging everywhere. Camp recruitment was down to zero. Satyrs were having trouble finding new demigods and bringing them to Half-Blood Hill because so many monsters were roaming the country. Thalia hadn't been heard from in months, not since she and I had teamed up with Nico on Persephone's orders for a quick task back in December, and if Artemis knew what had happened to them, she wasn't sharing.

We visited the Aphrodite cabin, which of course got a five out of five. The beds were perfectly made. The clothes in everyone's footlockers were colour coordinated. Fresh flowers bloomed on the windowsills and the place smelled of Chanel No. 9, which, according to them, was a sure-fire way to send monsters running in the other direction. I'd never seen proof of that, but if I were a monster and I smelt the amounts of perfume that Drew wore, I'd be the first to run.

"Great job as usual, Silena," I complimented her. I don't think Cabin 10 had ever gotten less than a perfect score.

Silena nodded listlessly. The wall behind her bed was decorated with pictures of Beckendorf. She sat on her bunk with a box of chocolates on her lap, and I remembered that her dad owned a chocolate store in the Village, which was how he'd caught the attention of Aphrodite.

"You want a bonbon?" Silena asked, her expression dull. "My dad sent them. He thought—he thought they might cheer me up."

"Are they any good?" I asked.

She shook her head. "They taste like cardboard."

We'd eaten worse, so we each took one, promised to see Silena later and kept going with the inspection.

As we crossed the commons area, a fight broke out between the Ares and Apollo cabins. Some Apollo campers armed with firebombs flew over the Ares cabin in a chariot pulled by two pegasi, the damn thing that had started the latest feud in the first place. Soon, the roof of the Ares cabin was burning, and naiads from the canoe lake rushed over to blow water on it.

Then the Ares campers called down a curse, and all the Apollo kids' arrows turned to rubber. The Apollo kids kept shooting at the Ares kids, but the arrows bounced off.

Two archers ran by, chased by an angry Ares kid who was yelling in poetry: "Curse me, eh? I'll make you pay! / I don't want to rhyme all day!"

Luke muttered a curse in Greek. "Not that again. It took a week for the rhyming couplets to wear off last time."

I shuddered at the memory. The headache I had developed as a result of said curse had lasted ages, not to mention the amount of broken jaws as a result of people getting fed up with hearing rhymes. One of the campers, Megan, had gotten her jaw broken three times, and developed a fever from the high doses of ambrosia she'd been given to heal it.

"Fail 'em," I instructed him. He nodded in agreement, scribbling a zero in each of their sections on his sheet. "I can't believe that we're in the middle of the apocalypse, and they're arguing over a godsdamned chariot," I grumbled as we went on towards the next cabin.

"It's ridiculous, but," Luke shrugged.

I grimaced in understanding and nodded. One persistent problem among half-bloods was our pride. We inherited it from our godly parents, and it was a rare demigod that was a humble demigod. Many, many half-bloods had died in fights caused by their pride being insulted.

"The Apollo does have a better claim seeing as they captured it," I mused, tapping my chin. "But Clarisse has a point that her cabin often gets shafted by people. Their bad rep plays against them. Still, they ought to put it aside until the war is over. Now is _not_ the time for this shit."

Luke sighed and nodded. "I'm with you, Ariel."

We ducked as Michael dive-bombed an Ares camper in the chariot. The Ares camper tried to stab him and cuss him out in rhyming couplets. I'll give him this: He was pretty creative about rhyming those cuss words.

"Idiots," I stated flatly. "If they don't knock it off soon, I'm gonna intervene."

Luke gave me an alarmed look. Last time I had lost my patience and 'intervened' in a cabin feud, seven people had ended up in the infirmary and both cabins had spent the best part of a month under repair. I was a violent person, and proud of it. "Keep 'em all in fighting condition, Ariel," he reminded me. "'s kinda important, right now."

I smirked bitterly at that and nodded.

I scanned more reports and we inspected a few more cabins. Demeter got a four. Hephaestus got a three and probably should've gotten lower, but with Beckendorf being gone we cut them some slack. Hermes got a two, which was no surprise. All campers who didn't know their godly parentage were shoved into the Hermes cabin, and as a result it was always overcrowded. In fact, my first summer there, it was so over-crowded that I had to share a bunk with Luke (though him being my bunkmate wasn't a necessity, he just liked me from the start. Admittedly, I liked him too.)

Finally we got to Athena's cabin, which was orderly and clean as usual. Books were straightened on the shelves. The armour was polished. Battle maps and blueprints decorated the walls. The laptop Daedalus had bequeathed to his half-siblings last year was on a special desk, running some sort of programme by the looks of it. We gave them a four out of five after finding some dirty washing shoved under one of the bunks, very uncharacteristic for cabin 6, then we were finally done with inspection.

On the way to the Big House, we read the last report, which was handwritten on a maple leaf from a satyr in Canada. If possible, the note made me feel even worse.

"_'Dear Grover,'" _I read aloud. _" 'Woods outside Toronto attacked by giant evil badger. Tried to do as you suggested and summon power of Pan. No effect. Many naiads' trees destroyed. Retreating to Ottawa. Please advise. Where are you? —Gleeson Hedge, protector._'"

Luke grimaced. "You haven't heard anything from him? Even with your empathy link?"

I shook my head dejectedly. I realized that I had started chewing on the side of my thumbnail, a new nervous habit that had recently sprung up, and quickly stopped again.

Ever since last summer when the god Pan had died, Grover had been drifting farther and farther away. The Council of Cloven Elders treated him like an outcast, but Grover still travelled all over the East Coast, trying to spread the word about Pan and convince nature spirits to protect their own little bits of the wild. He'd only come back to camp a few times to see his girlfriend, Juniper.

Last I'd heard he was in Central Park organizing the dryads, but nobody had seen or heard from him in two months. We'd tried to send Iris-messages. They never got through. I had an empathy link with Grover, so I hoped I would know if anything bad happened to him. Grover had told me one time that if he died, the empathy link might kill me too. But I wasn't sure if that was still true or not.

I wondered if he was still in Manhattan. Then I thought about my dream of Rachel's sketch—dark clouds closing on the city, an army gathered around the Empire State Building.

"Luke," I hesitated.

The thing is, Luke doesn't like mortals. His experience had been, in general, negative. And, as counsellor of cabin 11, he'd heard dozens of stories of kids who's parents couldn't cope with knowledge of the supernatural and took it out on their children. His automatic dislike for Rachel had eased off, but he still wasn't comfortable around her, and he had a tendency to be rather condescending towards her. Usually, I just didn't mention her to him.

Despite that, I told him everything. He clenched his fists on his clipboard, glaring out at the horizon.

"She's a mortal," he pointed out after a few minutes.

I nodded. "I know, but you know what I'm thinking, right?"

"Typhon's a distraction to draw the Olympians away from the mountain," he answered flatly. "Practically handing it to Kronos on a silver platter."

"Yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my ponytail tiredly. I was still a few days away from turning sixteen, but I felt more like I was in my nineties.

"They can't _not_ fight him, though," Luke pointed out grimly. "The entire West would be destroyed. And they can't afford to divide their forces either. They're barely slowing him down as it is."

"I know," I replied glumly. "Gods, what're we gonna do?"

"We'll get through it," Luke said after a few moments of heavy silence. "We always do."

I looked away, not responding.

I wish I could say that the day improved at least a little bit after that, but I'd be lying through my teeth.

That afternoon we had an assembly at the campfire to burn Beckendorf's burial shroud and say our good-byes. Even the Ares and Apollo cabins called a temporary truce to attend.

Beckendorf's shroud was made out of metal links, like chain mail. I wasn't sure how it burned, but magic does some amazing things. The metal melted in the fire and turned to golden smoke, which rose into the sky. The campfire flames always reflected the campers' moods, and today they burned black and low.

I hoped Beckendorf's spirit would end up in Elysium. Maybe he'd even choose to be reborn and try for Elysium in three different lifetimes so he could reach the Isles of the Blest, which was like the Underworld's ultimate party headquarters. If anyone deserved it, Beckendorf did.

After everyone else had drifted off, Silena stayed by the fire, sobbing into Clarisse's shoulder. I wanted to go over and comfort her, but I couldn't. Nothing I could say would make things better for her. Beckendorf was gone and he wasn't coming back. The guilt I felt was so bad I could've thrown up.

I watched the last sparks from Beckendorf's fire curl into the afternoon sky. Clarisse stroked Silena's hair while her boyfriend Chris sat beside them, solemn faced. Then I turned away and headed toward the sword-fighting arena. I needed a break, and I wanted to see an old friend.


	5. I Go For A Doggy Ride

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I'm skipping the chapter with May, because obviously she doesn't really impact the war in this universe. It's straight to the Underworld from here.**

**Chapter Five**

**I Go For A Doggy Ride**

Mrs. O'Leary saw me before I saw her, which was a pretty good trick considering the fact that she's the size of a truck. I walked into the arena, and a wall of darkness slammed into me.

"WOOF!"

The next thing I knew I was flat on the ground with a huge paw on my chest and an oversize Brillo-pad tongue licking my face.

"Ow!" I hissed, feeling my ribs begin to crack from her heavy weight. "Hey, girl. Good to see you too. Ow!"

It took a few minutes for Mrs. O'Leary to calm down and get off me. By then I was pretty much drenched in dog drool. She wanted to play fetch, so I picked up a bronze shield and tossed it across the arena.

I bit my lip as I remembered how, when I was gone for my frequent trips to Montauk, Beckendorf would look after her for me. He had smelted Mrs. O'Leary's favourite bronze chewing bone. He'd forged her collar with the little smiley face and a crossbones name tag. Next to me, Beckendorf had been her best friend.

Thinking about it only worsened my grief, but I threw the shield a few more times because Mrs. O'Leary insisted.

Soon she started barking—a sound slightly louder than an artillery gun—like she needed to go for a walk. The other campers didn't think it was funny when she went to the bathroom in the arena. It had caused more than one unfortunate slip-and-slide accident. So I opened the gates of the arena, and she bounded straight toward the woods.

I jogged after her, unconcerned that she was getting ahead. Nothing in the woods could threaten Mrs. O'Leary. Even the dragons and giant scorpions ran away when she came close.

When I finally tracked her down, she wasn't using the facilities. She was in a familiar clearing where the Council of Cloven Elders had once put Grover on trial. The place didn't look so good. The grass had turned yellow. The three topiary thrones had lost all their leaves. But that's not what surprised me. In the middle of the glade stood the weirdest trio I'd ever seen: Juniper the tree nymph, Nico, and a very old, very fat satyr.

Nico was the only one who didn't seem freaked out by Mrs. O'Leary's appearance. He looked pretty much like I'd seen him in my dream—an aviator's jacket, black jeans, and a T-shirt with dancing skeletons on it, like one of those Day of the Dead pictures. His Stygian iron sword hung at his side. He was only twelve, but he looked much older and sadder. Not surprising really, as his life was as grim as mine. Only Nico preferred to keep to himself, save for my regular IMs to make sure that he hadn't gotten himself killed.

He nodded when he saw me, then went back to scratching Mrs. O'Leary's ears. She sniffed his legs like he was the most interesting thing since rib-eye steaks. Being the son of Hades, he'd probably been traveling in all sorts of hellhound-friendly places.

The old satyr didn't look nearly so happy. "Will someone—what is this underworld creature doing in my forest!" He waved his arms and trotted on his hooves as if the grass were hot. "You there, Anaea Jackson! Is this your beast?"

"Sorry, uh, Leneus," I apologised insincerely. "That's your name, right?"

The satyr rolled his eyes. His fur was dust-bunny grey, and a spiderweb grew between his horns. His belly would've made him an invincible bumper car meaning he was lazy, a trait I hate. Worst of all, he was one the satyrs who'd voted to banish Grover last year, an unforgiveable sin in my opinion.

"Well, of course I'm Leneus," he scoffed. "Don't tell me you've forgotten a member of the Council so quickly. Now, call off your beast!"

"She's not doing anything," I replied flatly. "There's no need for me to call her off."

"WOOF!" Mrs. O'Leary barked happily in agreement.

The old satyr gulped. "Make it go away! Juniper, I will not help you under these circumstances!"

Juniper turned toward me. She was pretty in a dryad-y way, with her purple gossamer dress and her elfish face, but her eyes were green-tinted with chlorophyll from crying.

"Ana," she sniffled. "I was just asking about Grover. I know something's happened. He wouldn't stay gone this long if he wasn't in trouble. I was hoping that Leneus—"

"I told you!" the satyr protested. "You are better off without that traitor."

Juniper stamped her foot. "He is not a traitor! He's the bravest satyr ever, and I want to know where he is!"

"WOOF!"

Leneus's knees started knocking. "I . . . I won't answer questions with this hellhound sniffing my tail!"

Nico looked like he was trying to not crack up. "I'll walk the dog," he volunteered. He whistled, and Mrs. O'Leary bounded after him to the far end of the grove.

Leneus huffed indignantly and brushed the twigs off his shirt. "Now, as I was trying to explain, young lady, your boyfriend has not sent any reports since we voted him into exile."

"You tried to vote him into exile," I corrected him, subtly adjusting my stance to be more threatening. "Chiron and Dionysus stopped you."

"Bah! They are honorary Council members. It wasn't a proper vote."

"I'll make sure to tell Lord Dionysus you said that."

Leneus paled. "I only meant . . . Now see here, Jackson. This is none of your business."

"Grover's my friend," I declared, in a low, cold tone. "He wasn't lying to you about Pan's death. I saw it myself. You're just too scared to accept the truth." Even worse than being lazy, he was a coward.

Leneus' lips quivered. "No! Grover's a liar and good riddance. We're better off without him."

I jabbed a finger at the withered thrones. "If things are going so well, where are your friends? Looks like your Council hasn't been meeting lately." I smirked icily.

"Maron and Silenus . . . I . . . I'm sure they'll be back," he insisted, but I could hear the panic in his voice. "They're just taking some time off to think. It's been a very unsettling year."

"It's going to get a lot more unsettling," I promised. I forced myself to soften, or at least appear to. "Leneus, we need Grover. There's got to be a way you can find him with your magic."

The old satyr's eye twitched. "I'm telling you, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's dead."

Juniper choked back a sob, covering her mouth with a dainty hand.

"He's not dead," I stated firmly. "I can feel that much."

"Empathy links," Leneus said disdainfully. "Very unreliable."

"So ask around," I insisted. "Find him. There's a war coming. Grover was preparing the nature spirits."

"Without my permission! And it's not our war."

That's when I lost my patience and promptly grabbed him by the shirt, holding his wrist tight enough to break it.

"Listen, Leneus. When Kronos attacks, he's going to have _packs_ of hellhounds. He's going to destroy _everything_ in his path—mortals, gods, demigods. Do you think he'll let the satyrs go free? You're supposed to be a leader. So _LEAD_.

Get out there and see what's happening. Find Grover and bring Juniper some news. Now, _GO_!"

I didn't push him very hard, but he was ridiculously out of shape. He fell on his furry rump, then scrambled to his hooves and ran away with his belly jiggling. "Grover will never be accepted! He will die an outcast!"

When he'd disappeared into the bushes, Juniper wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to get you involved. Leneus is still a lord of the Wild. You don't want to make an enemy of him."

"No problem," I waved in dismissal. "I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs."

Nico walked back to us, smirking. "Good job, Ana. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well."

I was afraid I knew why Nico was here, but I tried to smile. "Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper?"

He blushed. "Um, no. That was an accident. I kind of . . . dropped into the middle of their conversation."

"He scared us to death!" Juniper added. "Right out of the shadows. But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you_ sure_ you haven't heard anything about Grover?"

Nico shifted his weight. "Juniper, like I tried to tell you . . . even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls."

"But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?"

Nico's cheeks became an even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open."

"We'll find him, Juniper," I promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us."

She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress.

Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!"

She went poof into green mist. Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico and me alone.

Nico tapped his sword on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knit themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. "I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf."

A lump formed in my throat. "How did you—"

"I talked to his ghost."

"Oh . . . right." It worried me a lot that this twelve-year-old kid spent more time talking with the dead than the living. "Did he say anything?"

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't."

"Is he going to try for rebirth?"

Nico shook his head. "He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death."

I bit my lip and glanced away. I supposed it was a good thing that Beckendorf was okay, but I still wished he was still here.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tarn," I said to change the subject. "Was that—"

"Real," he confirmed. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighbourhood and decided to take the opportunity."

"You were in the neighbourhood doing what?"

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on . . . you know, my family."

I nodded. I knew his past was a painful subject. For the past year, he'd been obsessed with finding answers about his mysterious past. All he knew for sure (as far as he'd told me) was that he was born in the late 30s-early 40s and then put in the Lotus Casino up until two years ago.

"So how did it go?" I asked gently. "Any luck?"

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon."

"What's the lead?"

Nico chewed his lip. "That's not important right now. You know why I'm here."

I narrowed my eyes when he refused to reveal his lead, but was quickly distracted by the second part of his statement. I winced and shook my head.

"It's too dangerous," I insisted. "Dozens have tried, and none of them managed. What makes you so sure that I won't die trying too?"

"I've researched it all very carefully," he replied stubbornly. "Ana, listen to me. You've got Typhon coming in, what . . . a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos' side. It's time to think extreme."

I looked back toward the camp. Even from this distance I could hear the Ares and Apollo campers fighting again, yelling curses and spouting bad poetry. I thought about Silena, her bleak attitude, the way everyone seemed to be preparing and resigning themselves to death. None of us expected to survive this war.

"They're no match for the Titan army," Nico stated. "You know that. This comes down to you and Ethan. And there's only one way you can beat Ethan."

I remembered the fight on the Princess Andromeda. I'd been hopelessly outmatched. Kronos had almost killed me with a single cut to my arm, and I couldn't even wound him. My sword had glanced right off his skin.

"We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ."

I wondered how Nico had heard the prophecy— probably from some ghost.

"You can't prevent a prophecy," I pointed out. Everybody knew that.

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light in his eyes. It made me uneasy. "You can become invincible."

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—"

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!"

I stared at him. I hadn't seen his temper flare like that in a long time. "Nico, what in Olympus' name is going on?"

He took a deep breath. "Ana, all I mean . . . when the fighting starts, we won't be able to make the journey. This is our last chance. I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy, but two years ago my sister gave her life to help save you. I want you to honour that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos."

I swallowed, looking down at the ground. Nico had a point. If Kronos attacked New York, the campers would be no match for his forces. I had to do something. Nico's way was dangerous—maybe even deadly. But it might give me a fighting edge.

"All right," I sighed, giving in. "What's first then?"

He smirked triumphantly. "We need to go to the Underworld," he told me. His expression softened. "I've done a lot of research into this. Even spoke to _him_ about it. We need to see your mother."

I inhaled sharply and clenched my fists. "How could we-"

"She's in Elysium," Nico informed me gently. "We'll go there."

Of course she was in Elysium. She had been a saint. If any mortal deserved it, she did. I refrained from saying anything else about my mother, and focused on the logistics. "How'll we get there? Is the tunnel in Central Park still open?"

"No need for that," Nico replied confidently. He whistled, and Mrs. O'Leary came loping out of the woods.

"Your friend here can help." Nico patted her head. "You haven't tried shadow travel yet?"

"Shadow travel?"

Nico whispered in Mrs. O'Leary's ear. She tilted her head, suddenly alert.

"Hop on board," Nico told me.

I'd never considered riding a dog before, bur Mrs. O'Leary was certainly big enough. I climbed onto her back and held her collar.

"This will make her very tired," Nico warned, "so you can't do it often. And it works best at night. But all shadows are part of the same substance. There is only one darkness, and creatures of the Underworld can use it as a road, or a door."

"I don't understand," I said.

"No," Nico said. "It took me a long time to learn. But Mrs. O'Leary knows. Tell her where to go. Tell her to go to the Underworld."

I gave him one last doubtful look, then leaned down to whisper into my faithful companion's ear. "Go to the Underworld, Girl."

Mrs. O'Leary barked loudly and sniffed at the air for a moment. She looked into the gloom of the forest. Then she bounded forward, straight into an oak tree.

Just before we hit, we passed into shadows as cold as the dark side of the moon.


	6. Meetings With My Mother

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Six**

**Meetings With My Mother**

If I never shadow travelled again, it would millennia too soon. We went so fast it felt as if my face was peeling off, I could hear strange noises that made my instincts tingle in warning and, worst of all, I couldn't see a thing. I could only feel Mrs. O'Leary's fur and my fingers wrapped around the bronze links of her dog collar.

The only good part was that it was so fast, the trip was over before I had a mental breakdown.

The shadows melted away to reveal the Underworld. It was, unfortunately, a familiar enough sight. I'd had the misfortune to be here physically twice, and in my dreams more times than I could count.

To my left, I could see the dull, colourless Fields of Asphodel, where the souls of people who either weren't good enough for Elysium or weren't terrible enough for Punishment went, or else decided to forgo being judged entirely, went to. It was filled to the brim by dull, grey spirits who wandered around, unaware of their surroundings or their history.

The thought of Asphodel frightened me as much as Punishment did. They remembered nothing of the people they had once been, or the people they loved. What could possibly be worse than looking the person you had once loved in the eye, while they stared at you without any notion of who you were?

The scene to my right was far more pleasant, and distressingly small in comparison to both Asphodel and Punishment, that I'd trekked through last December with Thalia and Nico. The Fields of Elysian, a gated island community.

The smell of barbecue wafted from it, and I could hear the sounds of laughter and peaceful happiness too. The town, despite being mostly hidden by its walls, was more colourful than anywhere else in the Land of the Dead.

The shadows beside me seemed to thicken, and Nico stepped out a second later. He stumbled, but I caught his arm and helped him sit down on a nearby rock.

"Nico, you alright?" I asked worriedly. I was fairly sure it was over-use of his powers, something I was more than a little used to myself. But that sort of thing could be very dangerous, and it had killed more than a few half-bloods.

"I'm okay," he managed, rubbing his eyes.

"How did you do that?"

"Practice. A few times running into walls. A few accidental trips to China."

"China?" I repeated with a smirk of amusement. "Seriously?"

He shrugged, the corner of his lips tugging slightly as Mrs. O'Leary began to snore. I glanced around nervously. There was a lot I wanted to do, but meet the Furies again wasn't one of them.

"It's fine," Nico assured me. "Nobody will be here. Since the war began, Punishment's been a mess. Father ordered all the guards over there a few months ago, to prevent any escapes."

"I hope you're right about that," I sighed at him. I frowned at Mrs. O'Leary and gave him a concerned look. He did look really drained. "Are you going to collapse as well?" I asked.

He shook his head. "The first time I shadow travelled, I passed out for a week. Now it just makes me a little drowsy, but I can't do it more than once or twice a night. Mrs. O'Leary won't be going anywhere for a while. On the other hand, we ought to hurry. There isn't much time."

He stood and shifted himself. There was an anxious expression in his eyes that he was clearly trying to hide. "Ready?" he called over his shoulder as he began heading for the gate. I patted Mrs. O'Leary on the snout quickly, before running to catch up with him.

"Can we seriously just walk right in like that?" I asked him doubtfully. That seemed very off, if you asked me. Shouldn't heaven have more security?

He smirked. "When I'm here, we can," he informed me. I shrugged and followed him into the brightly-lit streets of Paradise.

It really was a beautiful place. The sky was clear and blue (fake, obviously, but pretty) and the temperature was perfect, warm and not humid in the slightest. The neighbourhoods were filled with a mismatch of beautiful houses from every period in history. I saw medieval castles alongside Roman villas and Victorian mansions. The grass rippled in a rainbow of colours, and the lawns had gardens with awe-inspiring flowers of every type and colour, even silver and gold.

Some things seemed like they should clash with each other, but somehow didn't. People of all ages, smiling cheerily and laughing, walked along or had picnics at the parks.

At one point, I spotted a gladiator sparring with a knight from the Middle Ages. The gladiator won, and the knight chuckled good-naturedly as his sparring partner helped him up again.

Then I saw a pair of women in Renaissance clothes, walking arm-in-arm. The older of the women called the auburn-haired woman "Mama", and I felt my heart warm. It was a lovely prospect, being reunited with those you loved after death.

We arrived at a beach, and my cheer quickly disappeared, replaced by sickening nerves. The urge to run away was so strong, I clenched my fists, making my nails dig into my palms, and bit my tongue to keep from fleeing.

Nico seemed to know exactly where he was going, because he brought me straight to a seaside cabin that reminded me of Mom and I's cabin at Montauk. I inhaled shakily, tears already blurring my vision. I barely noticed Nico telling me that he wanted to check something, and he'd come get me afterwards.

Knocking on the door seemed to take more strength than holding the sky itself up (and I know that from personal experience). Maybe she knew that I was coming already, because the door flew open the moment my fist rapped against it.

My breath caught, and the tears I'd been holding back spilled onto my cheeks. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. People said, when they saw a picture of her, that I resembled her a great deal, but personally I thought she was far more beautiful than I was, blood of a god or not.

Her smile was warm as a quilt, and her blue eyes sparkled and changed colour even as I watched. Her brunette hair was the same shade as mine, and pulled back in a plait with a few strands escaping. She was dressed in a pale blue blouse with sleeves that were fitted up to her elbows, where they flared out, and some dark blue flowers. Underneath she wore a pair of blue jeans, and her feet were bare. She smelled like chocolate, liquorice and anything else you would find in a candy shop.

I'd tried so hard to keep her memory alive in my mind, and it wasn't until right now that I realized how many of the small details had faded from my memory.

"Mom," I croaked out, feeling far more reverent than I ever had around any god. "Oh my gods, Mom."

"My baby!" she cried. "Oh, my sweet Ana. I've missed you so much, oh, Ana!" I choked out a sob, reaching for her. I couldn't touch her though, and both of us cried harder at that.

Still, she ushered me inside. It was, again, just like our home in the Aboveworld. I passed by the Underworld version of my bedroom, and fell into a fresh wave of sobs when I saw that it was decorated the same way it had been when I was six.

The only difference, really, was that writing materials covered the whole place. Mom shrugged when she saw me glancing at them curiously.

"Obviously, I can't ever get published in the living world," she stated. "But I _can_ be published down here. This will be my fourth book. They're quite popular, actually."

"Of course they are," I sniffled. My eyes itched. I hadn't cried this much since her actual death. "You wrote them. I have your old journals," I added. "One of my friends is lucky enough to be one of the few half-bloods without dyslexia, and he helped me to translate them into Ancient Greek so I could read them."

The journals were filled with stories Mom had written, ideas for stories that she had, and the rest was the stuff going on in her life at the time she wrote it.

Mom gave a wobbly smile. We sat down beside each other on the worn blue sofa, with just enough distance between us to pretend that we weren't touching by choice.

"Tell me everything, Ana," Mom requested, our eyes locked on each other. "We're able to watch our loved ones, but I want to hear it from you."

I swallowed and nodded. I told her everything, not leaving out a single detail that I could think of. I had wished so many times to be able to talk to her about my struggles, and hear her reassurances. I wasn't about to waste my only opportunity.

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over repeatedly at the darker stories, and laughter that warmed me in my stomach bubbled out of her throat for the funnier ones. She gave a soft, understanding smile when I admitted that I was head-over-heels for Luke.

Eventually, I finished up my story by explaining Nico's plan briefly and then asking her a question that had been burning in me for years.

"I looked in your journals, but I could never figure out if you knew about the Prophecy or not," I murmured, leaning my head against the back of the sofa and holding my knees to my chest loosely.

Mom sighed and looked down at her hands for a moment. "Not until I was pregnant," she told me. "I was eighteen when I met your father, and he was charming and a god and he called me a queen among women. How could I not fall in love with him?

He hadn't told me about the oath until then, but he was worried and admitted it when I told him I was pregnant. He warned me about the Prophecy, without giving any details, and he tried to convince me to come with him, and live under the sea. He even offered to build me a palace," she laughed shakily, her expression pained.

"But, as you obviously know, I refused. It wouldn't have been fair, not to the two of us, and not to his wife and his children with her. He argued, but he accepted my decision eventually, and that was that. I never saw him again, and you became the most important part of my life. I married Gabe because I saw that something about him kept the monsters away from you. I'd've spent the rest of my life with him if it protected you."

She suddenly looked up at me again, and leaned in close, her expression determined. "I want you to remember something, alright Ana?"

"Okay, I promise," I agreed without a second thought. This was my mother, after all. I would never even think of refusing her anything.

"Remember how proud I am of you," her voice cracked with sorrow. "And how much I love you. I wish I could have been there for you all these years, or at least when you first found out the truth about your father. I should have told you, not your teacher. But never forget that, okay? I love you more than anything else in this world, and I am so very proud of you. _Always_."

"I will, I'll remember," I promised between yet more heaving sobs. For years I had floundered, wondering what Mom would think of my decisions. I tried to memorize the sound of her voice, in case I didn't hear it again. The only bright spot to the whole 'cursed blade shall reap' thing, was that I'd probably come here to Elysium, and be reunited with Mom again.

"I need your blessing," I managed to say, trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I won't survive otherwise. Nico's plan is my only chance, and it's only ever been successful a few times, and that's when the mother gives her blessing for it."

Mom shut her eyes, looking pained. Then she slowly nodded her head. "Anaea, I give you my blessing. Do whatever you need to do to survive and win this war. I know that you can do it. I've known it since the day that you were born."

"Ana, it's time to go," Nico announced a second later, stepping into the room. He looked regretful at interrupting, but Mom and I simply nodded.

"I love you," I whispered to her. I memorized her face as best I could, hoping the details wouldn't disappear again.

She forced a smile, made a move to embrace me, remembered herself, and stepped back. "I love you too, Ana," she repeated. "So very much."

Turning and leaving the cabin was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

This time, I didn't notice any of the spirits or the places as Nico guided me back out of the Fields of Elysian. Outside, Mrs. O'Leary was awake again and rolling around happily in the black grass. When we exited the gates, she bounded over to us, barking loudly in excitement.

I barely had time to pat her nose when a large shadow appeared overhead, drawing my attention. I swore violently in English, Greek and Latin when I saw what had cast it.

She had a shrivelled face, a horrible blue knit hat, and a crumpled velvet dress. Leathery bat wings sprang from her back. Her feet had sharp talons, and in her brass-clawed hands she held a flaming whip and a paisley handbag.

"Mrs. Dodds," I spat bitterly.

She bared her fangs. "Welcome back, honey."

Her two sisters—the other Furies—swooped down and settled next to her in the branches of the poplar.

"You know Alecto?" Nico asked me.

"If you mean the hag in the middle, yeah," I confirmed. My tone was taut with fury, and things were beginning to come together in my mind. "She was my math teacher, back before I knew what I was."

Nico nodded, like this didn't surprise him. He looked up at the Furies and took a deep breath. "I've done what my father asked. Take us to the palace."

He turned to me, guilty but determined. "I'm afraid that this is my new lead, Ana. My father promised me information about my family, but he wants to see you before we try the river. I'm sorry."

My expression stayed completely calm as I punched him so hard he toppelled backwards onto his back.


	7. Discussions With the God of the Dead

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. AN: everyone is asking about HOO, so I'm gonna say it here. For the moment, I have a few thoughts on HOO, but I'm not sure whether or not I'll do it. Truthfully, I was disappointed with HOH and BoO. Either way, I'll be taking a break from this genre for awhile after finishing TLO to work on some other projects I have in mind. Thanks everyone for reviews, favs, etc. Your support means the world to me.**

**Chapter Seven**

**I Have A 'Discussion' With the Lord of the Dead**

Alecto dropped me like a sack of turnips in the middle of the palace garden.

It was beautiful in a creepy way. Skeletal white trees grew from marble basins. Flower beds overflowed with golden plants and gemstones. A pair of thrones, one bone and one silver, sat on the balcony with a view of the Fields of Asphodel. It would've been a nice place to relax on a Saturday morning except for the sulphurous smell and the cries of tortured souls in the distance.

Skeletal warriors guarded the only exit. They wore tattered U.S. Army desert combat fatigues and carried M16s. I wondered if they were loaded with Celestial Bronze or iron bullets. Either way, they'd be lethal to me. Yet another perk of being a half-blood, I'm vulnerable to all types of weapons.

The third Fury deposited Nico next to me. Then all three of them settled on the top of the skeletal throne in bat-like poses. I resisted the urge to attack them all. For the moment, strategy dictated that I content myself with Nico's bloody and crooked nose. Later, though. I just needed to be patient for a while.

I stared at the empty thrones, waiting for something to happen. Then the air shimmered. Three figures appeared—Hades and Persephone on their thrones, and an older woman standing between them. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

"—told you he was a bum!" the older woman was exclaiming.

"Mother!" Persephone replied.

"We have visitors!" Hades barked. "Please!"

Hades smoothed his black robes, which were covered with the terrified faces of the damned. He had pale skin and the intense eyes of a madman. It was easy to see where Hitler got his psychoticness from.

"Anaea Jackson," he said with satisfaction. "At last."

I bit back the urge to ask which movie he'd gotten that cliché from.

"Demigods," Demeter complained. "Just what we need." I pointedly ignored her, along with everybody else.

Thank the Fates, her kids were far more pleasant to be around than she was. Ten seconds in and I was itching to choke them all. It didn't spell good things for my immediate future given the situation and my inability to hold my tongue.

"My lord," I scoffed sarcastically. "Really, if you were so eager to see me, you could've just sent an Iris Message. I'm flattered that you went to so much effort to see me. Really."

He glowered at me, fists tightening. I found it very satisfying to know that I could piss off an Olympian with only a few words. It was a personal thing.

"Insolent as ever," he growled.

"My middle name," I chirruped cheerily. "How's that new sword I helped get you last December?"

Hades gritted his jaw and turned his head to Nico, had knelt before his father and fixed his gaze on the ground.

"Father," Nico said. "I have done as you asked."

"Took you long enough," Hades huffed. "Your sister would've done a better job."

Nico lowered his head. Mad as I was at him tricking me, I still felt bad for him. Having Hades as a parent was a fate I wouldn't wish on Annabeth or Ethan, let alone somebody I typically liked.

I glared up at the god of the dead. "What do you want, Hades? In case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"To talk, of course." The god twisted his mouth in a cruel smile. "Didn't Nico tell you?"

"So this whole thing was a trick. Nico brought me down here to get me killed."

"Oh, no," Hades said. "I'm afraid Nico was quite sincere about wanting to help you. The boy is as honest as he is dense. I simply convinced him to take a small detour and bring you here first."

"Father," Nico interrupted, "you promised that Ana wouldn't be harmed. You said if I brought her, you would tell me about my past—about my mother."

Queen Persephone sighed dramatically. "Can we please not talk about _that woman_ in my presence?"

"I'm sorry, my dove," Hades apologized. "I had to promise the boy something."

The older lady harrumphed. "I warned you, daughter. This scoundrel Hades is no good. You could've married the god of doctors or the god of lawyers, but noooo. You _had_ to eat the pomegranate."

There was a god of lawyers? Surely she was joking. Mind you, if she wasn't, I had no interest in meeting said god of lawyers. I had a bad experience with those soul-sucking asses in their ridiculously expensive grey business suits.

"Mother—"

"And get stuck in the Underworld!"

"Mother, please—"

"And here it is August, and do you come home like you're supposed to? Do you ever think about your poor lonely mother?"

"DEMETER!" Hades shouted. "That is enough. You are a guest in my house."

I clenched my fists in frustration, trying to keep a veneer of calmness. It hadn't escaped my notice that they, along with Hades' army, were all tucked up safe and sound here in the Underworld, while everyone else scrambled to defend the West. They were cowards, and selfish ones at that. I itched to show them how I felt about people hiding away and letting others die when they could help.

Blood filled my mouth as I bit down harshly on my tongue to try and control myself.

"Oh, a house is it?" Demeter retorted. "You call this dump a house? Make my daughter live in this dark, damp—"

"I told you," Hades said, grinding his teeth, "there's a war in the world above. You and Persephone are better off here with me."

"Excuse me," I broke in. "But if you're going to kill me, could you just get on with it? Otherwise, I have stuff to do and places to be, so..." I trailed off, shrugging. I wondered if my casual attitude hid my utter loathing and contempt for them.

All three gods looked at me.

"Well, this one has an attitude," Demeter observed.

"Indeed," Hades agreed. "I'd love to kill her."

"Father!" Nico protested. "You promised!"

"Husband, we talked about this," Persephone chided. "You can't go around incinerating every hero. Besides, she's brave. I like that."

Hades rolled his eyes. "You liked that Orpheus fellow too. Look how well that turned out. Let me kill her, just a little bit."

"Oh, well, if it's only a little bit," I mocked him under my breath. Nobody seemed to hear.

"Father, you promised!" Nico insisted. "You said you only wanted to talk to her. You said if I brought her, you'd explain."

"Her is right here, thanks very much," I mumbled irritably, though I had softened towards him a slight fraction. At least I had memories of Mom to sustain me. Nico didn't even that much.

Hades glowered, smoothing the folds of his robes. "And so I shall. Your mother—what can I tell you? She was a wonderful woman." He glanced uncomfortably at Persephone. "Forgive me, my dear. I mean for a mortal, of course. Her name was Maria di'Angelo. She was from Venice, but her father was a diplomat in Washington, D.C. That's where I met her. When you and your sister were young, it was a bad time to be children of Hades. World War II was brewing. A few of my, ah, other children were leading the losing side. I thought it best to put you two out of harm's way."

"That's why you hid us in the Lotus Casino?"

Hades shrugged. "You didn't age. You didn't realize time was passing. I waited for the right time to bring you out."

"But what happened to our mother? Why don't I remember her?"

"Not important," Hades snapped.

"What? Of course it's important. And you had other children—why were we the only ones who were sent away? And who was the lawyer who got us out?"

Hades grit his teeth. "You would do well to listen more and talk less, boy. As for the lawyer . . ."

Hades snapped his fingers. On top of his throne, the Fury Alecto began to change until she was a middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit with a briefcase. She—he—looked strange crouching at Hades' shoulder.

"You!" Nico said.

The Fury cackled. "I do lawyers and teachers very well!"

Nico was trembling. "But why did you free us from the casino?"

"You know why," Hades said. "This thrice-cursed daughter of Poseidon cannot be allowed to be the child of the prophecy."

I flicked my wrist to summon the knife hidden up my sleeve and threw it straight at Hades' non-existent heart. It sank harmlessly into his robe. "You should be helping!" I cried furiously. "All the other gods are fighting Typhon, and you're just sitting here—"

"Waiting things out," Hades finished. "Yes, that's correct. When's the last time Olympus ever helped me, half-blood? When's the last time a child of mine was ever welcomed as a hero? Bah! Why should I rush out and help them? I'll stay here with my forces intact."

"And when Kronos comes after you?"

"Let him try. He'll be weakened. And my son here, Nico—" Hades looked at him with distaste. "Well, he's not much now, I'll grant you. It would've been better if Bianca had lived. But give him four more years of training. We can hold out that long, surely. Nico will turn sixteen, as the prophecy says, and then he will make the decision that will save the world. And _I_ will be king of the gods."

"You're crazy," I spat bitterly, hating him more than anybody else. He would let thousands of innocents die for no reason other than his hurt feelings and ambitions. Fates damn him to Tartarus for it!

"Kronos will crush you, right after he finishes razing Olympus. You'll never hold out long enough for Nico to turn sixteen! You're a fool to think you can force a prophecy to yield to your will!"

I was genuinely enraged. If not for the pair of skeletal guards that had appeared and were now holding me back, I'd have lunged for the god's neck. For a bunch of bones, they were annoyingly strong. I could feel the bruises forming from their tight grips.

Hades spread his hands. "Well, you'll get a chance to find out, half-blood. Because you'll be waiting out this war in my dungeons."

"No!" Nico cried in protest. "Father, that wasn't our agreement. And you haven't told me everything!"

"I've told you all you need to know," Hades replied coldly. "As for our agreement, I spoke with Jackson. I did not harm her. You got your information. If you had wanted a better deal, you should've made me swear on the Styx. Now, go to your room!" He waved his hand, and Nico vanished.

"That boy needs to eat more," Demeter grumbled. "He's too skinny. He needs more cereal."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Mother, enough with the cereal. My lord Hades, are you sure we can't let this little heroine go? She's awfully brave, and she did help us last December."

"No, my dear. I've spared her life. That's enough."

I was unsurprised when she argue any further, simply giving an indifferent shrug. "Fine. What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Cereal," Demeter stated.

"Mother!" The two women disappeared in a swirl of flowers and wheat.

"Don't feel too bad, Anaea Jackson," Hades smirked, as I glared darkly at him. "My ghosts keep me well informed of Kronos' plans. I can assure you that you had no chance to stop him in time. By tonight, it will be too late for your precious Mount Olympus. The trap will be sprung."

"What trap?" I demanded. "If you know about it, do something! At least let me tell the other gods!"

Hades smiled. "You are spirited. I'll give you credit for that. Have fun in my dungeon. We'll check on you again in—oh, fifty or sixty years."


	8. I Take An Acid Bath

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Eight**

**I Take An Acid Bath**

My sword had finally reappeared in my hair.

Great timing, right? Now I could attack the walls all I wanted. My cell had no bars, no windows, not even a door. The skeletal guards shoved me straight through a wall, and it became solid behind me. I wasn't sure if the room was airtight. Probably. Hades' dungeon was meant for dead people, and they don't breathe. So forget fifty or sixty years. I'd be dead in fifty or sixty minutes.

Meanwhile, if Hades wasn't lying, some big trap was going to be sprung in New York by the end of the day, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

And worst of all, being trapped in the small room was bringing on flashbacks of my captivity a year and a half ago, and I was fighting off a panic attack. I was doing better than I had been, but I was self-aware enough to realize that I still wasn't healed, so to speak.

I sat on the cold stone floor, feeling miserable and biting my fingers to try and snap myself out of the flashbacks.

I don't remember dozing off. Then again, it must've been about seven in the morning, mortal time, and I'd had an emotional few days.

I dreamed I was on the porch of Rachel's beach house in St. Thomas. The sun was rising over the Caribbean. Dozens of wooded islands dotted the sea, and white sails cut across the water. The smell of salt air made me wonder if I would ever see the ocean again, a painful thought.

Rachel's parents sat at the patio table while a personal chef fixed them omelets. Mr. Dare was dressed in a white linen suit. He was reading The Wall Street Journal. The lady across the table was probably Mrs. Dare, though all I could see of her were hot pink fingernails and the cover of Condé Nast Traveler. Such a rich person problem, having to choose where her next holiday would be before finishing the current one.

Rachel stood at the porch railing and sighed. She wore Bermuda shorts and her van Gogh T-shirt.

I wondered what she was thinking about, and if it had anything to do with the strange paintings I'd seen in my most previous dream of her.

Then the scene changed. I was in St. Louis, standing downtown under the Arch. I'd been there before. In fact, I'd almost fallen to my death there before.

Over the city, a thunderstorm boiled—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing. A column of dust rose from a mound of rubble, which I realized was a collapsed skyscraper.

A nearby reporter was yelling into her microphone: "Officials are describing this as a structural failure, Dan, though no one seems to know if it is related to the storm conditions."

Wind whipped her hair. The temperature was dropping rapidly, like ten degrees just since I'd been standing there.

"Thankfully, the building had been abandoned for demolition," she continued. "But police have evacuated all nearby buildings for fear the collapse might trigger—"

She faltered as a mighty groan cut through the sky. A blast of lightning hit the center of the darkness. The entire city shook. The air glowed, and every hair on my body stood up. The blast was so powerful I knew it could only be one thing: Zeus' master bolt. It should have vaporized its target, but the dark cloud only staggered backward. A smoky fist appeared out of the clouds. It smashed another tower, and the whole thing collapsed like children's blocks.

The reporter screamed. People ran through the streets. Emergency lights flashed. I saw a streak of silver in the sky—a chariot pulled by reindeer, but it wasn't Santa Claus driving. It was Artemis, riding the storm, shooting shafts of moonlight into the darkness. A fiery golden comet crossed her path . . . maybe her brother Apollo.

One thing was clear: Typhon had made it to the Mississippi River. He was halfway across the U.S., leaving destruction in his wake, and the gods were barely slowing him down.

The mountain of darkness loomed above me. A foot the size of Yankee Stadium was about to smash me into an Ana-shaped pancake when a voice hissed, "Ana!"

I lunged out blindly. Before I was fully awake, I had Nico pinned to the floor of the cell with the edge of my sword at his throat.

"Want . . . to . . . rescue," he choked.

My anger woke me up fast. "Oh, yeah? And why should I trust you?"

"No . . . choice?" he gagged.

I hated hearing logical things like that. I let him go, glowering.

Nico curled into a ball and made retching sounds while his throat recovered. Finally he got to his feet, eyeing my sword warily. His own blade was sheathed. I suppose if he'd wanted to kill me, he could've done it while I slept. Still, I didn't trust him. Though, if he didn't betray me again, I'd probably forgive him. I cared about sort of like a younger brother, and I sympathized with his motives, even if I was still pissed.

"We have to get out of here," he stated.

"Why?" I said snippily. "Does your father want to talk to me again?"

He winced. "Ana, I swear on the River Styx, I didn't know what he was planning."

"You know what gods are like!"

"He tricked me. He promised—" Nico held up his hands. "Look . . . right now, we need to leave. I put the guards to sleep, but it won't last."

I wanted to punch him again. Unfortunately, he was right. We didn't have time to argue, and I couldn't escape on my own. He pointed at the wall. A whole section vanished, revealing a corridor.

"Come on." Nico led the way.

I kept my sword ready, but I ended up not needing it. Every time we came to a skeleton guard, Nico just pointed at it, and its glowing eyes dimmed. Unfortunately, the more Nico did it, the more tired he seemed. We walked through a maze of corridors filled with guards. By the time we reached a kitchen staffed by skeletal cooks and servants, I was practically carrying Nico. He managed to put all the dead to sleep but nearly passed out himself. I dragged him out of the servants' entrance and into the Fields of Asphodel.

I almost felt relieved until I heard the sound of bronze gongs high in the castle.

"Alarms," Nico murmured sleepily.

"What do we do?"

He yawned then frowned like he was trying to remember. "How about . . . run?"

"Oh, great idea," I scoffed. "Run where, exactly?"

"You know," he yawned, closing his eyes. I groaned in annoyance, tugged him over my shoulder in a firefighter's hold, and began hurrying away as fast as I could. My sword's bronze glow made the spirits of the dead make way like I was Moses, parting the Red Sea.

The thought made me wonder briefly if converting to Christianity would get the Olympians off my back or make things worse with them, but I swiftly regained my focus. ADHD can be seriously inconvenient when you're busy worrying about your life and those of your loved ones.

The sound of gongs rolled across the fields. Ahead loomed the walls of Erebos, but the longer we walked, the farther away they seemed. I was about to collapse from exhaustion when I heard a familiar "WOOOOOF!"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded out of nowhere and ran circles around us, ready to play. I beamed at her.

"Good girl.'" I cooed at her. "Can you give us a ride to the Styx?"

The word Styx got her excited. She probably thought I meant _sticks_. She jumped a few times, chased her tail for no apparent reason, and then calmed down enough for me to push Nico onto her back. I climb aboard, and she raced toward the gates. She leaped straight over the EZ-DEATH line, sending guards sprawling and causing more alarms to blare. Cerberus barked, but he sounded more excited than angry, like: Can I play too?

Fortunately, he didn't follow us, and Mrs. O'Leary kept running. She didn't stop until we were far upriver and the fires of Erebos had disappeared in the murk.

Nico slid off Mrs. O'Leary's back and crumpled in a heap on the black sand.

I took out a square of ambrosia—part of the emergency supply I always kept with me. It was a little bashed up, but Nico chewed it.

"Uh," he mumbled. "Better."

"You don't look it," I replied bluntly.

He nodded sleepily, apparently too tired to notice the insult (or care). "With great power . . . comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."

"Whoa, zombie dude." I caught him before he could pass out again. "We're at the river. You need to tell me what to do."

I fed him the last of my ambrosia, keeping a hand pressed against his forehead to check he wasn't at risk of bursting into ashes from too much of it. Fortunately, it seemed to do the trick. Nico shook his head a few times and struggled to his feet.

"My father will be coming soon," he stated. "We should hurry."

The River Styx's current swirled with strange objects—broken toys, ripped-up college diplomas, wilted homecoming corsages—all the dreams people had thrown away as they'd passed from life into death. Looking at the black water, I could think of about three million places I'd rather swim.

"So . . . I just jump in?"

"You have to prepare yourself first," Nico explained, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul."

"I think I'd prefer to have a bubble bath instead," I muttered, tossing my ponytail over my shoulder and eyeing the river dubiously.

"This is serious, Ana," Nico warned. "There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to . . ."

He glanced behind me and his eyes widened. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a Greek warrior.

For a second I thought he was Ares, because this guy looked exactly like the god of war—tall and muscular, with a cruel scarred face and closely shaved black hair. He wore a white tunic and bronze armor. He held a plumed war helm under his arm. But his eyes were human—pale green like a shallow sea—and a bloody arrow stuck out of his left calf, just above the ankle.

"Achilles," I breathed, my eyes going wide. The greatest warrior of all time, standing right in front of me. I was gonna remember this.

The ghost nodded. "I warned the others not to follow my path. Now I will warn you."

"Ethan and Annabeth? You spoke with them?"

"Do not do this," he urged me. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal's, but your weaknesses, your failings will increase as well."

"I don't understand," I frowned. "You mean it'll affect my personality as well? I thought that your ankle was the problem."

He stared down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me in the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!"

He meant it. I could hear the regret and bitterness in his voice. He was honestly trying to save me from a terrible fate.

If it was solely about my life, I'd've taken his advice. But it wasn't. If I failed, then everyone and everything I loved would be destroyed by Kronos and his army. This was my only chance to even the playing field, even slightly.

"I have to," I said regretfully. "This is my only chance."

Achilles lowered his head. "Let the gods witness I tried. Heroine, if you must do this, concentrate on your mortal point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. This is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No man may be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you mortal, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist."

With that, he disappeared.

I took a deep breath and turned back to Nico, who was now having a crisis of faith about his plan.

"Ana," he began, "maybe he's right."

"This was your idea."

"I know, but now that we're here—"

"Just wait on the shore. If anything happens to me . . . Well, maybe Hades will get his wish, and you'll be the child of the prophecy after all."

He didn't look pleased about that, but I was already walking to the edge of the bank.

Before I could change my mind, I concentrated on the small of my back—a tiny point just opposite my navel. It was well defended when I wore my armor, it would be hard to hit by accident, and few enemies would aim for it on purpose. No place was perfect, but this seemed as sensible a place as any.

I pictured a thin rope connecting me to the world from the small of my back. And I stepped into the river.

Imagine jumping into a pit of boiling acid. Now multiply that pain times fifty. You still won't be close to understanding what it felt like to swim in the Styx. I planned to walk in normally, but as soon as the water touched my legs, my muscles turned to jelly and I fell face-first into the current.

I submerged completely. For the first time in my life, I couldn't breathe underwater. I finally understood the panic of drowning. Every nerve in my body burned. I was dissolving in the water. I saw faces-Chiron, Grover, Tyson, my mother—but they faded as soon as they appeared.

"Ana," my mom said. "I give you my blessing."

"Be safe, sister!" Tyson pleaded.

"Enchiladas!" Grover cried. I wasn't sure where that came from, but it didn't help much.

I was losing the fight. The pain was too much. My hands and feet were melting into the water, my soul was being ripped from my body. I couldn't remember who I was. The pain of Kronos' scythe had been nothing compared to this.

"The rope!" a familiar voice called to me. "Remember your lifeline, babes!"

Suddenly, I felt a tug in my lower back. The current pulled at me, but it wasn't carrying me away anymore. I imagined the rope in my back keeping me tied to the shore.

"Hang in there, Ariel," Luke instructed me.

The cord strengthened.

I looked up, spying him. He was standing on the edge of the pier, suppressing a laugh. I must have fallen out of my canoe.

"Grab my hand," he called to me, reaching down.

I reached up to grasp his boys, and found myself shooting out of the river, landing hard and painfully on the hard Underworld ground. My memories flooded back to me as Nico scrambled back in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he stammered. "Your skin. Oh, gods. You're hurt!"

My arms were bright red. I felt like every inch of my body had been broiled over a slow flame.

I looked around for Luke, even though logically I knew that he wasn't here. It had seemed so real.

"I'm fine . . . I think." The color of my skin turned back to normal. The pain subsided. Mrs. O'Leary came up and sniffed me with concern. Apparently I smelled really interesting.

"Do you feel stronger?" Nico asked.

Before I could decide how I felt, a voice boomed, "THERE!"

An army of the dead marched toward us. A hundred skeletal Roman legionnaires led the way with shields and spears. Behind them came an equal number of British redcoats with bayonets fixed. In the middle of the host, Hades himself rode a black-and-gold chariot pulled by nightmare horses, their eyes and manes smoldering with fire.

"You will not escape me this time, Anaea Jackson!" Hades bellowed. "Destroy her!"

"Father, no!" Nico shouted, but it was too late. The front line of Roman zombies lowered their spears and advanced.

Mrs. O'Leary growled and got ready to pounce. Maybe that's what set me off. I didn't want them hurting my dog. Plus, I was tired of Hades terrorizing Thalia and I because he was pissed at his brothers. If I was going to die, I might as well go down fighting.

I yelled, there was a tug n my gut and the River Styx exploded. A black tidal wave smashed into the legionnaires. Spears and shields flew everywhere. Roman zombies began to dissolve, smoke coming off their bronze helmets.

The redcoats lowered their bayonets, but I didn't wait for them. I charged.

It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. A hundred muskets fired at me, point blank. All of them missed. I crashed into their line and started hacking with Anaklusmos. Bayonets jabbed. Swords slashed. Guns reloaded and fired. Nothing touched me.

I whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust, one after the other. My mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Anaklusmos was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.

I broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward me, but I deflected it off my blade and slammed into him. The god and I both tumbled out of the chariot.

The next thing I knew, my knee was planted on Hades' chest. I was holding the collar of his robes in one fist, and the tip of my sword was poised right over his face.

Silence. The army did nothing to defend their master. I glanced back and realized why. There was nothing left of them but weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms. I had destroyed them all.

Hades swallowed. "Now, Jackson, listen here. . . ."

He was immortal. There was no way I could kill him, but gods can be wounded. I knew that firsthand, and I figured a sword in the face wouldn't feel too good.

"Just because I'm a nice person," I snarled, "I'll let you go. But first, tell me about that trap!"

Hades melted into nothing, leaving me holding empty black robes.

I cursed and got to my feet, breathing heavily. Now that the danger was over, I realized how tired I was. Every muscle in my body ached. I looked down at my clothes. They were slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes, but I was fine. Not a mark on me.

Nico's mouth hung open. "You just . . . with a sword . . . you just—"

"I think the river thing worked," I said.

"Oh gee," he scoffed sarcastically. "You think?"

Mrs. O'Leary barked happily and wagged her tail. She bounded around, sniffing empty uniforms and hunting for bones. I lifted Hades' robe. I could still see the tormented faces shimmering in the fabric.

I walked to the edge of the river. "Be free."

I dropped the robe in the water and watched as it swirled away, dissolving in the current.

"Go back to your father," I told Nico. "Tell him he owes me for letting him go. Find out what's going to happen to Mount Olympus and convince him to help."

Nico stared at me. "I . . . I can't. He'll hate me now. I mean . . . even more."

"You have to," I said. "You owe me too." It was harsh, but true.

His ears turned red. "Ana, I told you I was sorry. Please . . . let me come with you. I want to fight."

"You'll be more help down here."

"You mean you don't trust me anymore," he said miserably.

"I _do_ trust you," I insisted. "It's _because_ I trust that I'm asking you to do this. You're the only person who might be able to get him to listen."

"That's a depressing thought." Nico sighed. "All right. I'll do my best. Besides, he's still hiding something from me about my mom. Maybe I can find out what."

"Good luck. Now Mrs. O'Leary and I have to go."

"Where?" Nico said.

I looked at the cave entrance we had entered through back in December and thought about the long climb back to the world of the living. "To get this war started. It's time I stopped running from destiny and start running towards it."


	9. Sandman's Curse

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Enjoy the latest update.**

**Chapter Nine**

**The Sandman's Curse**

The moment I exited the tunnel into Central Park, my empathy link started tingling for the first time in months. I was instantly on alert.

The link activating could only mean one of two things: either a whole lot of people had suddenly switched on the Nature Channel, or Grover was close.

Excitement and hope started to rise in my chest and I prayed to the Fates it was the latter option. But there was only one way for me to check.

I shut my eyes and concentrated. _Grover_.

I knew he was somewhere in the park. I was certain of it. but why couldn't I sense his emotions? All I got was a faint hum in the base of my skull.

_Grover_, I thought more insistently. _Don't ignore me!_

_Hmm-hmmmm,_ something mumbled drowsily in reply.

An image came into my head. I saw a giant elm tree deep in the woods, well off the main paths. Gnarled roots laced the ground, making a kind of bed. Lying in it with his arms crossed and his eyes closed was a satyr. At first I couldn't be sure it was Grover. He was covered in twigs and leaves, like he'd been sleeping there a long time. The roots seemed to be shaping themselves around him, slowly pulling him into the earth.

_Grover, _I said._ Wake up_.

He snored loudly, and I planted my fists on my hips, aiming a mental glare at him.

_Grover Underwood, if you don't wake up ASAP, I'll tell Juniper that you've been getting up close and personal with a bunch of oak nymphs. You'll never even __**smell **__another enchilada again!_

His eyes shot open. A blur of thoughts filled my head like he was suddenly on fast-forward. The image shattered, and I almost fell over.

Mrs. O'Leary sniffed me in concern, and I patted her to calm her down. He was coming, so all I could do now was wait for him.

A minute later, the tree next to me shivered. Grover fell out of the branches, right on his head.

"Grover!" I yelled.

"Woof!" Mrs. O'Leary looked up, probably wondering if we were going to play fetch with the satyr. Honestly, I was a bit tempted.

I'd been frantic about him for months, and had he bothered to check in and let me know he was alright? No!

Oh, gods, I sounded like his mother or something. That was depressing. Almost sixteen was too young to be a nag.

"Blah-haa-haa!" Grover bleated.

I softened a fraction, reaching out to tug him to his feet. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine." He rubbed his head. His horns had grown so much they poked an inch above his curly hair. "I was at the other end of the park. The dryads had this great idea of passing me through the trees to get me here. They don't understand height very well."

He grinned and got to his feet—well, his hooves, actually. Since last summer, Grover had stopped trying to disguise himself as human. He never wore a cap or fake feet anymore. He didn't even wear jeans, since he had furry goat legs from the waist down. His T-shirt had a picture from that book Where the Wild Things Are. It was covered with dirt and tree sap. His goatee looked fuller, almost manly (or goatly?), and he was as tall as Luke's shoulder now (without counting the horns).

I stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "It's so good to see you," I breathed in relief, tears pricking my eyes. Finally, something good had happened. It had been a rough few days, but knowing for sure that Grover was okay eased my stress a fraction. I pulled back and scowled at him.

"What the hell've you been up to?" I demanded. "I've been worried sick! Not to mention how upset Juniper's been!"

"Huh?" Grover frowned. "What do you mean?"

I stared at him, then reached out to check for any head wounds. "You've been missing for two months," I told him as I patted his head carefully. "We had no idea what happened."

"Two months?" Grover repeated, going pale. "That's impossible. It's June. I just lay down to take a nap and . . ." His eyes widened in panic and he grabbed my arms. "I remember now! He knocked me out. Ana, we have to stop him!"

"Whoa," I said, patting the air in a calming gesture. "Slow down. Tell me what happened."

He took a deep breath. "I was . . . I was walking in the woods up by Harlem Meer. And I felt this tremble in the ground, like something powerful was near.  
I started following the scent. This man in a long black coat was walking through the park, and I noticed he didn't cast a shadow. Middle of a sunny day, and he cast no shadow. He kind of shimmered as he moved. Like a mirage. And whenever he passed humans, they would pass out. Curl up and go right to sleep. Then after he was gone, they'd get up and go about their business like nothing happened."

I clenched my fists in my jeans, exhaling slowly and evenly. "Morpheus, god of dreams," I declared. "He sided with Kronos even before Olympus officially declared war. I saw him when- You're lucky to be alive, Grover. What happened then?"

"I followed him. He kept looking up at the buildings around the park like he was making estimates or something. This lady jogger ran by, and she curled up on the sidewalk and started snoring. The guy in black put his hand on her forehead like he was checking her temperature. Then he kept walking. By this time, I knew he was a monster or something even worse. I followed him into this grove, to the base of a big elm tree. I was about to summon some dryads to help me capture him when he turned and . . ."

Grover swallowed. "Ana, his face. I couldn't make out his face because it kept shifting. Just looking at him made me sleepy. I said, 'What are you doing?' 'Just having a look around' he replied. 'You should always scout a battlefield before the battle.' I said something really smart like, 'This forest is under my protection. You won't start any battles here!' And he laughed. He said, 'You're lucky I'm saving my energy for the main event, little satyr. I'll just grant you a short nap. Pleasant dreams.' And that's the last thing I remember."

I raked a hand through my hair, shuddering. "Thank the gods you survived," i muttered, unable to think of another reply.

I'd only seen Morpheus once, and I (thankfully) hadn't interacted with him, but I'd heard a lot of stories, and they all made me shudder. Not to mention my own mental war against my dreams. I Morpheus was the source of them, then my hatred was just a fraction less than my hatred for Kronos and Themis.

At least now I understood why we couldn't contact Grover.

"Two months," Grover moaned. "He put me to sleep for two months!"

"Why didn't the nymphs try to wake you?" I asked.

Grover shrugged. "Most nymphs aren't good with time. Two months for a tree—that's nothing. They probably didn't think anything was wrong."

"We've got to figure out what Morpheus was doing in the park," I said. "I don't like this 'main event' thing he mentioned. It must have something to do with the trap Hades mentioned. he must have some special part in the invasion."

"What?" Grover asked blankly, and I blinked, realizing that all of his info was months out of date. I cringed when I realized that I would have to tell him about Beckendorf.

"C'mon," I instructed him, waving him after me. Mrs. O'Leary, who had been curled up off to the side, bounded to her feet and followed us. "I'll explain on the way. There isn't much time."

By the time we had reached the park exit, I had managed to update him on everything that had happened, and he wore a grave expression.

"Aannnaa, is Kronos really going to invade?"

"I wish I could say no, but that'd be a lie. He's on his way as we speak, I'm certain of it."

I thought Grover might chew up his reed pipes in anxiety, but he straightened up and brushed off his T-shirt. I couldn't help thinking how different he looked from fat old Leneus. Grover, despite his unassuming appearance, was one of the bravest people I knew. Not to mention the most loyal.

"I've got to rally the nature spirits, then," he stated. "Maybe we can help. I'll see if we can find out what Morpheus is up to."

"Better tell Juniper you're okay, too."

His eyes widened. "Juniper! Oh, she's going to kill me!"

He started to run off, then scrambled back and gave me another hug. "Be careful! I'll see you soon!"

"You too!"

I watched him run off, then turned away, searching for a payphone. I placed a call, spoke quickly to Chiron, then made my way to the Empire State Building. I passed the time pacing in front of it, lost in grim thoughts of the future and worrying over what I'd learned from Hades and Grover.

It was late afternoon, almost two hours later, by the time the others arrived. Mrs. O'Leary passed her time bounding up and down Fifth Avenue, licking cabs and sniffing hot dog carts. Nobody seemed to notice her, although people did swerve away and look confused when she came close.

I whistled for her to heel as three white vans pulled up to the curb. They said Delphi Strawberry Service, which was the cover name for Camp Half-Blood. I'd never seen all three vans in the same place at once except in their garage, though I knew they shuttled our fresh produce into the city.

The first van was driven by Argus, our many-eyed security chief. The other two were driven by harpies, who were the grumpiest and most reckless drivers in history. Usually it was very entertaining to watch them, but not right now.

The doors slid open. A bunch of campers climbed out, some of them looking a little green from the long drive. I was glad so many had come: Pollux, Silena, Clarisse (who was scowling resentfully), Michael, Jake Mason, Katie, Lou Ellen and Luke, along with most of their siblings. Chiron came out of the van last. His horse half was compacted into his magic wheelchair, so he used the handicap lift.

I did a head count: nearly fifty campers in all.

Not many to fight a war, but it was still the largest group of half-bloods I'd ever seen gathered in one place outside camp. Everyone looked nervous, and I understood why. We were probably sending out so much demigod aura that every monster in the north-eastern United States knew we were here.

As I looked at their faces—all these campers I'd known for years now—a dark voice whispered in the back of my mind: _One of them is a spy_.

But I shoved that thought away. I wouldn't give Kronos the satisfaction of turning me against them. They were my friends. I needed them.

Luke came up to me. He was dressed in army-style fatigues beneath a Bronze breastplate. His sword, Halcyon, hung at his waist. He frowned at me. "What's wrong?"

"What's not?" I retorted, hastily shoving away thoughts of him pulling me out of the Styx in my vision, and the memory of our kiss last summer.

He gave a half-shrug and a nod, conceding the point.

I turned to Chiron. "After you," I offered.

He shook his head gently, wearing a soft smile. "I came to wish you luck, my girl. But I make it a point never to visit Olympus unless I am summoned."

"But-"

He smiled as he interrupted me. "I will go gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Ana. You are their leader, and have been for some time."

I wanted to protest, because they're was a big difference between mediating arguments and leading people into battle, but I couldn't. Everybody was looking at me expectantly, even Luke. They were putting their trust in me, and if I revealed my fears, I risked them crumbling under their own.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, like I told Chiron on the phone, something bad is going to happen by tonight. Some kind of trap. We've got to get an audience with Zeus and warn him. If the gods can't return, then we'll have to defend Olympus ourselves."

Nobody looked particularly happy at the prospect, but they all nodded in acceptance. None of us had any real options, after all.

I asked Argus to watch Mrs. O'Leary, which neither of them looked happy about.

Chiron shook my hand. "You'll do well, Ana. Just remember your strengths and beware your weaknesses."

It sounded eerily close to what Achilles had told me. Then I remembered Chiron had taught Achilles. That didn't exactly reassure me, but I nodded and tried to give him a confident smile.

"Let's go," I told the campers.

A security guard was sitting behind the desk in the lobby, reading a big black book with a flower on the cover. He glanced up when we all filed in with our weapons and armour clanking. "School group? We're about to close up."

"No," I said. "Six-hundredth floor."

He checked us out. His eyes were pale blue and his head was completely bald. I couldn't tell if he was human or not, but he seemed to notice our weapons, so I guess he wasn't fooled by the Mist.

"There is no six-hundredth floor, kid." He said it like it was a required line he didn't believe. "Move along."

I leaned across the desk. "Fifty demigods attract an awful lot of monsters. You really want us hanging out in your lobby?"

He thought about that. Then he hit a buzzer and the security gate swung open. "Make it quick."

"You don't want us going through the metal detectors," I added.

"Um, no," he agreed. "Elevator on the right. I guess you know the way."

I tossed him a golden drachma and we marched through.

We decided it would take two trips to get everybody up in the elevator. I went with the first group. Different elevator music was playing since my last visit—that old disco song "Stayin' Alive." It didn't make me feel much better about things.

I was glad when the elevator doors finally dinged open. In front of us, a path of floating stones led through the clouds up to Mount Olympus, hovering six thousand feet over Manhattan. I carefully didn't think about that, or the possibility of falling off. With my luck, I'd jinx it.

I'd seen Olympus several times, but it still took my breath away. The mansions glittered gold and white against the sides of the mountain. Gardens bloomed on a hundred terraces. Scented smoke rose from braziers that lined the winding streets. And right at the top of the snow-capped crest rose the main palace of the gods. It looked as majestic as ever, but something seemed wrong. Then I realized the mountain was silent—no music, no voices, no laughter.

Luke studied me, his frown making his facial scar ripple. "You look . . . different," he decided. "What did you do?"

The elevator doors opened again, and the second group of half-bloods joined us.

"Tell you later," I answered. "Come on."

We made our way across the sky bridge into the streets of Olympus. The shops were closed. The parks were empty. A couple of Muses sat on a bench strumming flaming lyres, but their hearts didn't seem to be in it. A lone Cyclops swept the street with an uprooted oak tree. A minor godling spotted us from a balcony and ducked inside, closing his shutters.

We passed under a big marble archway with statues of Zeus and Hera on either side. I made a face at the queen of the gods.

"I hate her," I muttered grumpily.

Luke smirked. "Still sending cows after you?"

I shot him a dark glower, and he quickly suppressed the grin, though his eyes still twinkled in amusement. It disappeared a moment later though.

"Look!" Pollux cried, pointing toward the horizon. "What is that?"

We all froze. Blue lights were streaking across the evening sky toward Olympus like tiny comets. They seemed to be coming from all over the city, heading straight toward the mountain. As they got close, they fizzled out. We watched them for several minutes and they didn't seem to do any damage, but still it was strange.

"Like infrared scopes," Michael Yew muttered. "We're being targeted."

"Let's get to the palace," I said.

No one was guarding the hall of the gods. The gold-and-silver doors stood wide open. Our footsteps echoed as we walked into the throne room.

Of course, "room" doesn't really cover it. The place was the size of Madison Square Garden. High above, the blue ceiling glittered with constellations. Twelve giant empty thrones stood in a U around a hearth. In one corner, a house-size globe of water hovered in the air, and inside swam the Ophiotaurus, half-cow, half-serpent.

"Moooo!" he said happily, turning in a circle.

Despite all the serious stuff going on, I had to smile. He was so sweet and innocent. I'd gotten quite attached to him two years ago, even though I'd mostly seen him through dreams.

"Hey, baby," I cooed at him. "They treating you okay?"

"Mooo," Bessie answered.

We walked toward the thrones, and a woman's voice said, "Hello again, Ana Jackson. You and your friends are welcome."

I turned in surprise at the familiar voice. I rarely had the time to speak with the goddess of the hearth, but I had spoken enough to her to respect her more than any other god.

Hestia stood by the hearth, poking the flames with a stick. She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she usually did, but she was a grown woman now, instead of her typical form of a young girl around nine.

I bowed. "Lady Hestia."

My friends followed my example.

Hestia regarded me with her red glowing eyes. "I see that you now bear the curse of Achilles."

The other campers started muttering among themselves: What did she say? What about Achilles?

"You must be careful," Hestia warned me. "You gained much on your journey. But you are still blind to the most important truth. Perhaps a glimpse is in order."

Luke nudged me. "Um . . . what is she talking about?"

I stared into Hestia's eyes, and an image rushed into my mind: I saw a dark alley between red brick warehouses. A sign above one of the doors read RICHMOND IRONWORKS.

Two half-bloods crouched in the shadows—a boy about fourteen and a girl about twelve. I realized with a start that the boy was Luke. The girl was Thalia. I was seeing a scene from back in the days when they were on the run, before Grover found them.

Luke carried a bronze knife. Thalia had her spear and shield of terror, Aegis.

They both looked hungry and lean, with wild animal eyes, like they were used to being attacked.

"Are you sure?" Thalia asked.

Luke nodded. "Something's down here. I sense it."

A rumble echoed from the alley, like someone had banged on a sheet of metal. The half-bloods crept forward.

Old crates were stacked on a loading dock. Thalia and Luke approached with their weapons ready. A curtain of corrugated tin quivered as if something were behind it.

Thalia glanced at Luke. He counted silently with his fingers: One, two, three! He ripped away the tin, and a little girl flew at him with a hammer.

"Whoa!" Luke yelped.

The girl had tangled blond hair and was wearing flannel pajamas. She couldn't have been more than seven, but she would've brained Luke if he hadn't been so fast.

He grabbed her wrist, and the hammer skittered across the cement.

The little girl fought and kicked. "No more monsters! Go away!"

"It's okay!" Luke struggled to hold her. "Thalia, put your shield up. You're scaring her."

Thalia tapped Aegis, and it shrank into a silver bracelet. "Hey, it's all right," she told the child gently, trying to soothe her. Despite her intimidating demeanour, Thalia had always been good with kids. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm Thalia. This is Luke."

"Monsters!"

"No," Luke promised. "But we know all about monsters. We fight them too."

Slowly, the girl stopped kicking. She studied Luke and Thalia with large intelligent grey eyes.

"You're like me?" she checked suspiciously.

"Yeah," Luke confirmed. "We're . . . well, it's hard to explain, but we're monster fighters. Where's your family?"

"My family hates me," the girl stated. "They don't want me. I ran away."

Thalia and Luke locked eyes. I knew they both related to what she was saying.

"What's your name, kiddo?" Thalia asked.

"Annabeth."

Luke smiled. "Nice name. I tell you what, Annabeth—you're pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "You could?"

"Oh, yeah." Luke turned his knife and offered her the handle. "How'd you like a real monster-slaying weapon? This is Celestial bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer."

Maybe under most circumstances, offering a seven-year-old kid a knife would not be a good idea, but when you're a half-blood, regular rules kind of go out the window.

Annabeth gripped the hilt.

"Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters," Luke explained. "They don't have the reach or power of a sword, but they're easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy's armour. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you're pretty clever."

Annabeth stared at him with adoration. "I am!"

Thalia grinned. "We'd better get going, Annabeth. We have a safe house on the James River. We'll get you some clothes and food."

"You're . . . you're not going to take me back to my family?" she said. "Promise?"

Luke put his hand on her shoulder. "You're part of our family now. And I promise I won't let anything hurt you. I'm not going to fail you like our families did us. We'll always be there for each other. Deal?"

"Deal!" Annabeth agreed happily.

"Now, come on," Thalia urged them. "We can't stay put for long!"

The vision shut off.

My knees buckled, but Luke grabbed me. "Ana! What happened?"

"Did . . . did you see that?" I asked.

"See what?"

I glanced at Hestia, but the goddess' face was expressionless. Why had she shown me that?

"Nothing," I muttered. "Don't worry about it."

I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I couldn't afford to look weak. Whatever the vision had meant, I had to stay focused on our mission.

"Um, Lady Hestia," I said, "we've come on urgent business. We need to see—"

"We know what you need," a man's voice said. I shuddered. I hated when gods spoke before they appeared. It was seriously freaky.

Hermes shimmered into existence next to Hestia. He looked about twenty-five, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and elfish features. He wore a military pilot's flight suit, with tiny bird's wings fluttering on his helmet and his black leather boots. In the crook of his arm was a long staff entwined with two living serpents.

"I will leave you now," Hestia said. She bowed to the aviator and disappeared into smoke. I understood why she was so anxious to go. The God of Messengers, did not look happy.

"Hello, Ana." His brow furrowed as though he was annoyed with me, and I wondered if I'd done something to piss him off. I couldn't think of anything, but then I pissed off most immortals purely by breathing, so it was possible he'd decided to shift into the large 'Damn Ana Jackson to Tartarus' club. I figured that club was probably getting pretty full by now.

I inhaled deeply to steady myself, glancing at Luke. His expression was wooden, and his gaze was fixed on the floor. He hated interacting with his father even more than I did with Poseidon.

"Luke," Hermes greeted his son, his voice a fraction softer. He looked past us at his other children, nodding to them. "My children."

We all bowed. "Lord Hermes."

_Oh, sure, _one of the snakes said in my mind. _Don't say hi to us. We're just reptiles._

_George,_ the other snake scolded. _Be polite._

"Hello, George," I said. "Hey, Martha."

_Did you bring us a rat? _George asked.

_George, stop it, _Martha snapped._ She's busy!_

_Too busy for rats?_ George said._ That's just sad._

I decided it was better not to get into it with George. Necessity had mostly dealt with my fear of reptiles, but I still preferred not to be around them. "Um, Lord Hermes," I said, trying to sound calm and in control, not on the verge of hysteria. "We need to talk to Zeus. It's important."

Hermes' eyes were steely cold. "I am his messenger. May I take a message?"

Behind me, the other demigods shifted restlessly. Maybe if I tried to speak with Hermes in private . . .

"Guys, go and a sweep of the city. Check the defences. See who's left in Olympus. Meet Luke and I back here in thirty minutes."

Silena frowned. "But—"

"That's a good idea," Luke agreed. "Connor and Travis, you two lead."

The Stolls seemed to like that—getting handed an important responsibility right in front of their dad. They usually never led anything except toilet paper raids. "We're on it!" Travis agreed eagerily. They herded the others out of the throne room, leaving Luke and I with Hermes.

Luke exhaled heavily, then looked at his father. Hermes softened a fraction at his son's imploring expression.

"Father," Luke stated "Kronos is going to attack New York. You must suspect that. It's obvious. Surely Lady Athena has realized this?"

Hermes scowled again. "Don't get me started on Athena," he huffed. "She's the whole reason that I'm here in the first place. Zeus didn't want any of us to leave the front line. But Athena kept pestering him nonstop, 'It's a trap, it's a diversion, blah, blah, blah.' She wanted to come back herself, but Zeus was not going to let his number one strategist leave his side while we're battling Typhon. And so naturally he sent me to talk to you."

"She's right though," I insisted. "You need to come back, or Olympus will fall! What's the good in defeating Typhon if your thrones are destroyed, the West with them?"

"Jackson, you don't understand," Hermes retorted. "Typhon is our greatest enemy."

"I thought that was Kronos."

The god's eyes glowed. "No, Ana. In the old days, Olympus was almost overthrown by Typhon. He is husband of Echidna—"

"Met her at the Arch," I muttered. "Bitch with bad hair." Granted, that described most monsters, but it was still true. And her relationship with 'Sonny', her Chimaera, was just plain creepy.

"—and the father of all monsters. We can never forget how close he came to destroying us all; how he humiliated us! We were more powerful back in the old days. Now we can expect no help from Poseidon because he's fighting his own war. Hades sits in his realm and does nothing, and Demeter and Persephone follow his lead. It will take all our remaining power to oppose the storm giant. We can't divide our forces, nor wait until he gets to New York. We have to battle him now. And we're making progress."

"Progress?" I repeated incredulously. "He nearly destroyed St. Louis."

"Yes," Hermes admitted. "But he destroyed only half of Kentucky. He's slowing down. Losing power."

I didn't want to argue, but it sounded like Hermes was trying to convince himself.

In the corner, the Ophiotaurus mooed sadly.

"Those blue lights," I began, only to be cut off.

"Yes, yes. I saw them. Some mischief by that insufferable goddess of magic, Hecate, I'd wager, but you may have noticed they aren't doing any damage. Olympus has strong magical wards. Besides, Aeolus, the King of the Winds, has sent his most powerful minions to guard the citadel. No one save the gods can approach Olympus from the air. They would be knocked out of the sky."

"What about that teleporting thing you guys do?" I asked.

"That's a form of air travel too, Jackson. Very fast, but the wind gods are faster. No, if Kronos wants Olympus, he'll have to march through the entire city with his army and take the elevators! Can you see him doing this?"

Hermes made it sound pretty ridiculous—hordes of monsters going up in the elevator twenty at a time, listening to "Stayin' Alive." Still, I didn't like it. I wouldn't put anything past Kronos. He was called the Crooked One for a reason, after all.

"Maybe just a few of you could come back," I suggested.

"Impossible," Hermes stated flatly. "However, I have a message for you from Athena."

"Seriously?" I blinked in surprise. Athena, as far as I knew, despised me on principle due to my heritage. She had made no secret of her hatred, even voting for my death. What would she send me a message about?

"She said to warn you that you are on your own," he told me. "You must hold Manhattan without the help of the gods. As if I didn't know that. Why they pay her to be the wisdom goddess, I'm not sure."

"Anything else?" I asked. That wasn't very helpful. And gods got paid? Wonder if Olympus had to file taxes.

"She said you should tell Malcolm to try plan twenty-three. She said he would know what that meant. Last thing." Hermes looked at me. "She said to tell you: 'Remember the rivers.'

"Thank you, Father," Luke said briskly. "You should go now, return to the battle."

Hermes actually looked regretful. "Luke-"

There was a bolt of thunder, and he sighed. "Good luck," he told us, before beginning to glow. We snapped our eyes closed and looked away, and when the glow was gone, so was Hermes.

"We have to do this alone," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. "Gods above."

"Know what Athena meant by plan twenty-three or the rivers?" Luke asked. I shrugged helplessly.

As usual, the gods were being cryptic and unhelpful. What rivers? The Styx? The Mississippi? For all I knew she meant the Thames in London.

Just then the Stoll brothers ran in to the throne room.

"You need to see this," Connor declared urgently. "Now."

The blue lights in the sky had stopped, so at first I didn't understand what the problem was.

The other campers had gathered in a small park at the edge of the mountain. They were clustered at the guardrail, looking down at Manhattan. The railing was lined with those tourist binoculars, where you could deposit one golden drachma and see the city. Campers were using every single one.

I looked down at the city. I could see almost everything from here—the East River and the Hudson River carving the shape of Manhattan, the grid of streets, the lights of skyscrapers, the dark stretch of Central Park in the north. Everything looked normal, but something was wrong. I felt it in my bones before I realized what it was.

"I don't . . . hear anything," Luke said slowly, looking confused.

That was the problem.

Even from this height, I should've heard the noise of the city—millions of people bustling around, thousands of cars and machines—the hum of a huge metropolis. You don't think about it when you live in New York, but it's always there. Even in the dead of night, New York is never silent.

But it was now.

I felt like my best friend had suddenly dropped dead.

"What did they do?" My voice sounded tight and angry. "What did they do to my city?"

I pushed Michael away from the binoculars and took a look.

In the streets below, traffic had stopped. Pedestrians were lying on the sidewalks, or curled up in doorways. There was no sign of violence, no wrecks, nothing like that. It was as if all the people in New York had simply decided to stop whatever they were doing and pass out.

"Are they dead?" Silena asked in astonishment.

"Impossible," Clarisse denied, though she looked doubtful. "It can't be-" She trailed off, looking more shaken than I'd ever seen her be.

Ice coated my stomach. A line from the prophecy rang in my ears: _**And see the world in endless sleep. **_I remembered Grover's story about meeting the god Morpheus in Central Park. You're lucky I'm saving my energy for the main event.

"Not dead," I responded grimly. "Morpheus has put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep. The invasion has started."


	10. Battle Planning

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Ten**

**Battle Planning**

Mrs. O'Leary was the only one happy about the sleeping city.

We found her pigging out at an overturned hot dog stand while the owner was curled up on the sidewalk, sucking his thumb.

Argus was waiting for us with his hundred eyes wide open. He didn't say anything. He never does. I guess that's because he supposedly has an eyeball on his tongue. But his face made it clear he was freaking out.

I told him what we'd learned in Olympus, and how the gods would not be coming to help defend their thrones, despite the fact that all of their power came from the seats of power, and without them they would lose strength. The whole thing made me grit my teeth hard enough to hurt my jaw.

Argus rolled his eyes in disgust, which looked pretty psychedelic since it made his whole body swirl. I have to say, if I was interpreting the motion right, then I agreed with him completely. The gods were arrogant idiots, and they'd have only themselves to blame for not listening to us when we tried to warn them.

But now wasn't the time to sulk about immortal arrogance and its' consequences. It was time to fight.

"You'd better get back to camp," I told him. "Guard it as best you can."

He pointed at me and raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"We're staying," I stated. "We'll defend Olympus ourselves."

Argus nodded, like this answer satisfied him. He looked at Malcolm, who was behind me with the rest of the councilors, and drew a circle in the air with his finger.

"Yes," Malcolm agreed. "I think it's time."

"For what?" Clarisse demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Malcolm ran a hand through his blonde curls anxiously, his grey eyes filled with worry.

"Something Daedalus came up with," he explained. "Just wait a second, okay? I'll explain in a minute."

Clarisse opened her mouth to press him further, but fell silent at my warning look. We didn't have time for petty arguments or feuding.

Argus rummaged around in the back of his van. Finally, he brought out a bronze shield and passed it to Malcolm. It looked pretty much standard issue—the same kind of round shield we always used in capture the flag. But when Malcolm set it on the ground, the reflection on the polished metal changed from sky and buildings to the Statue of Liberty—which wasn't anywhere close to us.

"Is that real?" I asked eagerly. If it was showing real-time images, and could show more than just the Statute, it would be a great asset in planning our defences.

"It is," Malcolm agreed. "Susanna found the plans for it on Daedalus' laptop, and then Beckendorf made it for us." He shot Silena an apologetic look, while her lip wobbled at Beckendorf's name.

"It uses sunlight or moonlight from anywhere in the world to create a reflection," Malcolm continued hastily, as Clarisse rubbed Silena's arm in comfort. "You can literally see any target under the sun or moon, as long as natural light is touching it. Look."

We crowded around as Malcolm concentrated. The image zoomed and spun at first, so I got motion sickness just watching it. We were in the Central Park Zoo, then zooming down East 60th, past Bloomingdale's, then turning on Third Avenue.

"Whoa," Connor Stoll called. "Back up. Zoom in right there."

"What?" I demanded quickly. "You see invaders?"

"No, right there—Dylan's Candy Bar." Connor grinned at his brother. "Dude, it's open. And everyone is asleep. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Connor!" Katie Gardner scolded. She sounded disturbingly like Demeter. "This is serious. You are not going to loot a candy store in the middle of a war!"

"Sorry," Connor muttered, but he didn't sound very ashamed. When I glanced at Luke, he had a mildly amused expression on his face, and I'm fairly sure that he winked at his siblings, who all looked mischievous, despite the circumstances.

Malcolm passed his hand in front of the shield, and another scene popped up: FDR Drive, looking across the river at Lighthouse Park.

"This will let us see what's going on across the city," he stated. "Thank you, Argus. May the Fates be on your side."

Argus grunted. He gave me a look that clearly meant _Good luck; you're gonna need it,_ then climbed into his van. He and the two harpy drivers swerved away, weaving around clusters of idle cars that littered the road.

I wished I was going with them.

Instead, I whistled for Mrs. O'Leary, and she came bounding over.

"Hey, girl," I cooed, petting her snout. "You remember Grover? The satyr we met in the park?"

"WOOF!"

I hoped that meant Sure I do! And not, Do you have more hot dogs?

"I need you to find him," I said. "Make sure he's still awake. We're going to need his help. You got that? Find Grover!"

Mrs. O'Leary gave me a sloppy wet kiss, which seemed kind of unnecessary. Then she raced off north.

Pollux crouched next to a sleeping policeman. "I don't get it. Why didn't we fall asleep too? Why just the mortals?"

"This is a huge spell," Lou Ellen explained. "The bigger the spell, the easier it is to resist. If you want to put millions of mortals to sleep, you've got to cast a very thin layer of magic. Sleeping demigods is much harder. We're naturally resistant to the effects of magic, with degrees varying from person to person."

"I don't suppose you could lift it," I questioned, not surprised when she shook her head.

"Thin as it is, this is all still way beyond me," she replied. "And anyway, they're probably better off. If they were awake, they'd get in the way of the battle."

"True," I agreed, reaching up to redo my plait and try and think what to do next. But there was so much to do, I couldn't decide which took priority.

"Ana," Malcolm called, still looking at the shield. "You'd better see this."

The bronze image showed Long Island Sound near La Guardia. A fleet of a dozen speedboats raced through the dark water toward Manhattan. Each boat was packed with demigods in full Greek armour. At the back of the lead boat, a purple banner emblazoned with a black scythe flapped in the night wind. I'd never seen that design before, but it wasn't hard to figure out: the battle flag of Kronos.

My stomach sank in dismay.

"Scan the perimeter of the island," I ordered, kneeling beside him to see the shield better. "Quickly."

Malcolm shifted the scene south to the harbour. A Staten Island Ferry was ploughing through the waves near Ellis Island. The deck was crowded with dracaenae and a whole pack of hellhounds. Swimming in front of the ship was a pod of marine mammals. At first I thought they were dolphins. Then I saw their doglike faces and the swords strapped to their waists, and I realized they were telkhines.

The scene shifted again: the Jersey shore, right at the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel. A hundred assorted monsters were marching past the lanes of stopped traffic: giants with clubs, rogue Cyclopes, a few fire-spitting dragons, and, probably just to be petty, a World War II-era Sherman tank, pushing cars out of its way as it rumbled into the tunnel.

"What's happening with the mortals outside Manhattan?" I wondered, trying to suppress the panic clawing at my chest. "Is the whole state asleep?"

Malcolm frowned. "I don't think so, but it's strange. As far as I can tell from these pictures, Manhattan is totally asleep. Then there's like a fifty-mile radius around the island where time is running really, really slow. The closer you get to Manhattan, the slower it is."

He showed me another scene—a New Jersey highway. It was Saturday evening, so the traffic wasn't as bad as it might've been on a weekday. The drivers looked awake, but the cars were moving at about one mile per hour. Birds flew overhead in slow motion.

"Kronos," I said the name like it was a deadly curse. "He's slowing time."

"Hecate might be helping," Katie pointed out. "Look how the cars are all veering away from the Manhattan exits, like they're getting a subconscious message to turn back."

Lou Ellen glanced at the ground, looking ashamed at the acknowledgement of her mother's treason. Several shot her sympathetic looks, and Connor wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. He glared around at everyone, daring them to comment. Nobody did.

"I don't know." Malcolm sounded apologetic, as if not knowing everything was a source of shame for him. "But somehow they've surrounded Manhattan in layers of magic. The outside world might not even realize something is wrong. Any mortals coming toward Manhattan will slow down so much they won't know what's happening."

"Well, Lou's right that it'll keep 'em out of the way," I stated, trying to sound optimistic. "Everybody try and avoid tripping over b-people, okay? Move them out of the way, if possible. Gods, I hope that nobody was hurt because of this," I added the last part almost silently, so only Luke could hear. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently before releasing it quickly to preserve my image. I appreciated both actions.

His unspoken support strengthened me as I turned to face my small force od defenders. They all looked stunned and scared, and I couldn't blame them. The shield had shown us at least three hundred enemies on the way. There were fifty of us. And we were alone, with no help in sight. It was a grimmer situation than anything any of us had ever faced, but we had no other option.

"All right," I declared grimly. "We're going to hold Manhattan."

Silena tugged at her armour. "Um, Ana, Manhattan is huge."

"We_ are_ going to hold it," I insisted. "We have to."

"Ana's right," Luke added. "The wind gods'll keep Kronos' forces away from Olympus by air, so he'll choose a ground assault. It's his only option. We have to cut off the entrances to the island."

"They have boats," Michael Yew pointed out.

The words triggered a realization in my mind, and I smirked confidently. Suddenly I understood Athena's advice: Remember the rivers.

"I'll take care of the boats," I assured them all.

Michael frowned. "How?"

"Just leave it to me," I replied. "We need to guard the bridges and tunnels. Let's assume they'll try a midtown or downtown assault, at least on their first try. That would be the most direct way to the Empire State Building.

Michael, take Apollo's cabin to the Williamsburg Bridge. Try to keep them at bay with your arrows. Your archery is your strength, so avoid close-combat as much as you can.

Katie, Demeter's cabin takes the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. Grow thorn bushes and poison ivy in the tunnel. Do whatever you have to do, but keep them out of there!

Conner, Travis take the Hermes cabin and cover the Manhattan Bridge. And no stopping for looting or pillaging!"

"Aww," the Hermes kids groaned in disappointment, but I was already moving on.

"Clarisse, you and your cabin have the Brooklyn Bridge. It looks heavy there, so be prepared for an intense battle. Don't waste all your energy reserves in one battle, we need to be able to hold out a few days at least. Got it?"

"We won't let you down, Ana," Clarisse promised, not batting an eye. She and her siblings had bloodthirsty looks in their eyes, and I hoped their eagerness for revenge for Alisa, their recently-killed sister, wouldn't affect their judgement. I'd just have to trust them.

"We'll send all o' those bastards straight back to the pit they crawled out of," Mark boasted, gripping his sword. His siblings called their agreement.

I continued handing out assignments.

"Silena, take the Aphrodite crew to the Queens-Midtown Tunnel."

"Oh my gods," one of her sisters, I think it was Valentina, exclaimed excitedly. "Fifth Avenue is so on our way! We could accessorize, and monsters, like, totally hate the smell of Givenchy."

"No delays," I warned, then hesitated. "Well . . . the perfume thing is okay. But focus on the battle!"

They nodded, their excitement melting into seriousness. Despite their occasionally shallow attitudes, they were as much half-bloods as the rest of us were.

"All right, the Holland Tunnel. Jake, take the Hephaestus cabin there. Use Greek fire, set traps. Whatever you've got."

He grinned. "Gladly. We've got a score to settle. For Beckendorf!"

The whole cabin roared in approval.

"The 59th Street Bridge," I said. "Malcolm, you guys have that one. Oh! And your mother sent a message. Something about plan twenty-three?"

The Athena cabin all went wide eyed, before Malcolm gave a grim nod. "Will do," he promised.

"What's plan twenty-three?" Clarisse demanded.

"Automatons," Malcolm explained quickly. "Almost every statue in the city is actually an automaton built by Daedalus. When you see one, check if it has his symbol. Press it, say 'Daedalus Twenty-Three' then order it to defend Manhattan against the Titan Army. Then say 'begin activation' to make it start moving and activating the other statues."

"Okay, everybody make sure to do that on the way to your assignments," I ordered them.

They all looked as uneasy as I felt at the thought of relying on automatons, known to be both dangerous, difficult to defeat, and unreliable. Still, we needed all of the help that we could get.

"Luke'll stay with me," I continued. "We're gonna go and deal with the invaders coming by boat-"

"No detours you two," someone called jokingly.

I shot them an annoyed glare, hoping I wasn't flushing. Luke, ever-smooth, smirked and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"I make no promises," he declared. I rolled my eyes and shoved him away, nearly knocking him off-balance.

"Yeah, well I do. Nobody is making any detours, or you'll deal with me? Got it?"

"Yes, Crazy Powerful One!" Travis agreed, saluting sharply. If I didn't need as many people as intact as possible for the coming battle, I'd have punched him. As it is, my warning glare made him quieten down.

"All right," I said. "Keep in touch with cell phones."

"We don't have cell phones," Silena protested.

I reached down, picked up some snoring lady's BlackBerry, and tossed it to Silena. "You do now. Lou, I need your phone. You all know Lou's number, right? If not, she'll give it to you now. If you need Luke and I, pick up a random phone and call us. Use it once, drop it, then borrow another one if you have to. That should make it harder for the monsters to zero in on you."

Everyone grinned as though they liked this idea.

Travis cleared his throat. "Uh, if we find a really nice phone—"

"No, you can't keep it," I refused flatly.

"Aw, man."

"Hold it, Ana," Jake called. "You forgot the Lincoln Tunnel."

"γαμώ," I cursed. He was right. A Sherman tank and a hundred monsters were marching through that tunnel right now, and I'd positioned our forces everywhere else.

I debated quickly on what to do. Split the Hermes cabin in half? Go there with Luke after dealing with the boats and try to hold it ourselves? No option appealed to me, and none seemed likely to be very successful.

Then a girl's voice called from across the street: "How about you leave that to us?"

I'd never been happier to hear anyone in my life. A band of thirty adolescent girls crossed Fifth Avenue. They wore white shirts, silvery camouflage pants, and combat boots. They all had swords at their sides, quivers on their backs, and bows at the ready. A pack of white timber wolves milled around their feet, and many of the girls had hunting falcons on their arms.

The girl in the lead had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket. She wore a silver circlet on her head like a princess' tiara, which didn't match her skull earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an arrow through its head.

"Lightning Bug, I've never been happier to see you!" I called, dashing over to hug her. Luke was also quick to embrace his surrogate sister, clutching her tightly.

The daughter of Zeus grinned broadly at us. "The Hunters of Artemis, reporting for duty. Lady Artemis sent us to help with the city's defence."

There were hugs and greetings all around . . . or at least Thalia was friendly. The other Hunters didn't like being around campers, especially boys, but they didn't shoot any of us, which for them was a pretty warm welcome.

"Where have you been the last couple o' months?" I asked Thalia. "You've got like twice as many Hunters now!"

She laughed. "Long, long story. I bet my adventures were more dangerous than yours, Jackson."

"Complete lie," I retorted cheerfully, feeling happier than I had in gods-knew-how-long. Thalia and the Hunters' arrival had nearly doubled the number of our forces, and they were all skilled fighters, with Artemis' blessing only improving their already-astounding skills. I felt a lot more confident about our ability to hold out against the onslaught with their help.

"We'll see," she promised. "After this is over, you, Luke, and me: cheeseburgers and fries at that hotel on West 57th."

"Le Parker Meridien," I said. "You're on. And Thalia, thanks."

She shrugged casually. "Those monsters won't know what hit them. Hunters, move out!"

She slapped her silver bracelet, and the shield Aegis spiralled into full form. The golden head of Medusa moulded in the centre was so horrible, the campers all looked away. The Hunters took off down the avenue, followed by their wolves and falcons, and I had a feeling the Lincoln Tunnel would be safe for now.

"Thank the gods," Luke sighed.

"But if we don't blockade the rivers from those boats, guarding the bridges and tunnels will be pointless," Malcolm warned.

"You're right," I acknowledged. "Don't worry. I've got this."

I looked at the campers, all of them grim and determined. I tried not to feel like this was the last time I'd ever see them all together.

"You're the greatest heroes of this millennium," I told them firmly. "This war is not something we want to fight. We're taking up arms against our friends, siblings. But if we fail, then Olympus, and the West with it, fall with us. We will win, because we're fighting for our liberty, our loved ones, the symbol of everything good in this world. Monsters don't understand that. They don't understand the strength we have. I have no doubts that we can do this, because I know the strength of your spirit." I raised Anaklusmos, pointing the tip towards the sky. "FOR THE WEST!"

"FOR THE WEST!" They shouted in response, and our voices echoed off the buildings of Midtown. For a moment it sounded brave, but it died quickly in the silence of ten million sleeping New Yorkers.

The fighters dispersed with the noise, running for their assigned stations, determination radiating from them all. I was genuinely proud to be considered leader of such brave people. If we lost, it wouldn't be because we hadn't given everything we had to win.

Luke and I would've had our pick of cars, but they were all wedged in bumper-to-bumper traffic. None of the engines were running, which seemed strange to me. It seemed the drivers had had time to turn off the ignition before they got too sleepy. Or maybe Morpheus had the power to put engines to sleep as well. Most of the drivers had apparently tried to pull to the curb when they felt themselves passing out, but still the streets were too clogged to navigate.

At least there hadn't been any crashes, a fear I'd been nursing since discovering what had happened, nor could I see any sign of a pedestrian being run over. Small mercies.

Finally we found an unconscious courier leaning against a brick wall, still straddling his red Vespa. We dragged him off the scooter and laid him on the sidewalk.

"Sorry, man," I muttered to him apologetically. With any luck, I'd be able to bring his scooter back. If I didn't, it would hardly matter, because the city would be destroyed and we'd all be massacred by the Titans, mortal and half-bloods alike.

Luke drove while I sat behind him, holding onto his waist. We zigzagged down Broadway with our engine buzzing through the eerie calm. The only sounds were occasional cell phones ringing—like they were calling out to each other, as if New York had turned into a giant electronic aviary.

Our progress was slow. Every so often we'd come across pedestrians who'd fallen asleep right in front of a car, and we'd move them just to be safe. Once we stopped to extinguish a pretzel vendor's cart that had caught on fire. A few minutes later we had to rescue a baby carriage that was rolling aimlessly down the street. It turned out there was no baby in it—just somebody's sleeping poodle. Go figure. We parked it safely in a doorway and kept riding. We also paused twice to activate statues, one was a statue of William H. Seward, a son of Hebe and former city Governor, and the other a pair of lions.

All three traipsed off after being ordered to defend the city, and I prayed desperately that activating them hadn't been a terrible mistake.

As we were leaving William Seward behind, a ball of green light exploded in the evening sky. Greek fire, somewhere over the East River.

"We have to hurry," I stated urgently, as we ran for the Vespa.

"There's not much time," Luke agreed.

Why we insisted on stating the obvious, I wasn't sure. One of those masochistic tendencies we shared, I suppose. An unconscious desire to remind ourselves of the danger we were in. Very demigod-like.

We parked outside Battery Park, at the lower tip of Manhattan where the Hudson and East Rivers came together and emptied into the bay.

"Wait here," I told Luke.

"Ana, this is dangerous. I should come with you."

"You've been able to breathe underwater this whole time?" I chirruped in an overly-bright voice, gesturing to the water. "Why didn't you ever tell me? Go right ahead!"

Luke huffed and rolled his eyes. "You know there are other forms of communication except sarcasm, right?"

I waved him off, turning serious. "Trust me, I'll be fine. I've got the curse of Achilles now. I'm invincible and stuff. Besides, water is my turf."

"Just be careful," he instructed me. "I'd hate for you to be embarrassed by my saving your life for the millionth time. Especially in the water."

"Right, 'cause _you're_ the one who's always saving _me_," I smirked, before I clambered down the shoreline and waded into the water.

A piece of advice for all of you non-sea-god types out there, don't go swimming in New York Harbour. It may not be as filthy as it was a few decades ago, but that water will still probably give you radiation sickness or something. Or else just plain traumatize you.

I dove into the murk and sank to the bottom. I tried to find the spot where the two rivers' currents seemed equal—where they met to form the bay. I figured that was the best place to get their attention. I also knew the best way to get them to show themselves to me. When needing to speak to a god, insult them enough that they coming running to defend their honour.

"HEY!" I shouted in my best underwater voice. The sound echoed in the darkness. "I heard you guys are so polluted you're can't even show your faces, 'cause people point and laugh. Is that true?"

A cold current rippled through the bay, churning up plumes of garbage and silt.

"I heard the East River is more toxic," I continued, "but the Hudson smells worse. Or is it the other way around?"

The water shimmered. Something powerful and angry was watching me now. I could sense its presence . . . or maybe two presences.

I was afraid I'd miscalculated with the insults. What if they just blasted me without showing themselves? But these were _New York_ river gods. I figured their instinct would be to get in my face and teach me a lesson, up close and personal.

Sure enough, two giant forms appeared in front of me. At first they were just dark brown columns of silt, denser than the water around them. Then they grew legs, arms, and scowling faces.

The creature on the left looked disturbingly like a telkhine. His face was wolfish. His body was vaguely like a seal's—sleek black with flipper hands and feet. His eyes glowed radiation green.

The dude on the right was more humanoid. He was dressed in rags and seaweed, with a chain-mail coat made of bottle caps and old plastic six-pack holders. His face was blotchy with algae, and his beard was overgrown. His deep blue eyes burned with anger.

I suppressed a grimace of disgust, suddenly longing for the perfumed air and pink walls of the Aphrodite cabin.

The seal, who had to be the god of the East River, said, "Are you trying to get yourself killed, little girl? Or are you just extra stupid?"

The bearded spirit of the Hudson scoffed. "You're the expert on stupid, East."

"Watch it, Hudson," East growled. "Stay on your side of the island and mind your business."

"Or what? You'll throw another garbage barge at me?"

They floated toward each other, ready to fight.

"Hey assholes!" I yelled. "Knock it off! We've got a bigger problem."

"The girl's right," East snarled. "Let's both kill her first, then we'll fight each other."

"Sounds good," Hudson shrugged.

Before I could protest, a thousand scraps of garbage surged off the bottom and flew straight at me from both directions: broken glass, rocks, cans, tires.

I was expecting it, though. The water in front of me thickened into a shield. The debris bounced off harmlessly. Only one piece got through—a big chunk of glass that hit my chest and probably should've killed me, but it shattered against my skin.

The two river gods stared at me.

"Daughter of Poseidon?" East asked.

I nodded.

"Took a dip in the Styx?" Hudson asked.

"Yup." I popped the 'p', a small smirk playing at my lips.

They both made disgusted sounds.

"Well, that's just perfect," East snapped. "Now how do we kill her?"

"We could electrocute her," Hudson mused. "If I could just find some jumper cables—"

"Listen to me!" I cut in, before we all found out what being electrocuted in water does to an invincible child of the sea god. I wasn't keen to test the limits of my new invulnerability, thanks very much. "Kronos' army is invading Manhattan.'"

"Don't you think we know that?" East asked. "I can feel his boats right now. They're almost across."

"Yep," Hudson agreed. "I got some filthy monsters crossing my waters too."

"So stop them," I urged the two. "Drown them. Sink their boats."

"Why should we?" Hudson grumbled. "So they invade Olympus. What do we care?"

"Because I can pay you." I took out the sand dollar my father had given me for my birthday last summer.

The river gods' eyes widened.

"It's mine!" East cried. "Give it here, girl, and I promise none of Kronos' scum are getting across the East River."

"Forget that," Hudson snarled. "That sand dollar's mine, unless you want me to let all those ships cross the Hudson."

"We'll compromise." I broke the sand dollar in half. A ripple of clean fresh water spread out from the break, as if all the pollution in the bay were being dissolved.

"You each get half," I offered, holding the halves out, just out of reach of the eager river spirits. "In exchange, you keep all of Kronos' forces away from Manhattan."

"Oh, man," Hudson whimpered, reaching out for the sand dollar. "It's been so long since I was clean."

"The power of Poseidon," East River murmured. "He's a jerk, but he sure knows how to sweep pollution away."

They looked at each other, then spoke as one: "It's a deal."

I gave them each a sand-dollar half, which they held reverently.

"The invaders?" I prompted after a moment.

East flicked his hand. "They just got sunk."

Hudson snapped his fingers. "Bunch of hellhounds just took a dive."

"Nice doing business with you," I smiled, beginning to swim back up to the surface. "Stay clean."

As I rose toward the surface, East called out, "Hey, kid, any time you got a sand dollar to spend, come on back. Assuming you live."

"Curse of Achilles," Hudson snorted. "They always think that'll save them, don't they?"

"If only she knew," East agreed. They both laughed, dissolving into the water. I ignored them, mostly because I had already accepted that I'd be dead within the week.

Back on the shore, Luke was talking on Lou's cell phone, but he hung up as soon as he saw me. He wore a tense expression as he hastened to meet me half-way.

"It worked," I told him. "The rivers are safe."

"Good," he replied grimly. "Because we've got other problems. Michael just called. Another army is marching over the Williamsburg Bridge. The Apollo cabin needs help, badly. They're near to being overwhelmed. And Ana, the monster leading the enemy . . . it's the Minotaur."


	11. The First Battle

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I'm glad that everyone's enjoying this. Reviews are always welcome!**

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Battle of Williamsburg Bridge**

Fortunately, my ever-loyal Blackjack was on the ball.

I did my best taxi whistle, and within a few minutes two dark shapes circled out of the sky. They looked like hawks at first, but as they descended I could make out the long galloping legs of pegasi.

_Yo, boss-lady. _Blackjack landed at a trot, his friend Porkpie right behind him. _Man, I thought those wind gods were gonna knock us to Pennsylvania until we said we were with you!_

"Thanks for coming," I told him, patting his snout gently. "We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge ASAP."

Blackjack lowered his neck._ You're darn right, boss-lady. We flew over it on the way here, and it don't look good. Hop on!_

On the way to the bridge, my thoughts caused a knot to form in the pit of my stomach. The Minotaur was one of the first monsters I'd ever defeated, and Grover and I had survived by the skin of our teeth. I was comatose for days afterwards. I still had nightmares about that night.

I'd been hoping he would stay dead for a few centuries, but I should've known better. Tyche seriously hated me, to curse me with such bad luck. Maybe I was on my second life, and in my last one I had deathly insulted her or something. I couldn't come up with any other reasonable explanations.

We saw the battle before we were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.

We came in for a low pass, and I saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way.

But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armour, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know.

"There!" Luke called from the back of his pegasus.

Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was El Toro himself.

The last time I'd seen the Minotaur, he'd been wearing nothing but his underwear. I don't know why. Maybe he'd been shaken out of bed to chase me. This time, he was prepared for battle.

From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kilt-like apron of leather and metal flaps, bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. He seemed larger than the last time I'd seen him—ten feet tall in comparison to the eight that I recalled. A double-bladed axe was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it.

As soon as he saw me circling overhead (or sniffed me, more likely, since his eyesight was bad), he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.

"Blackjack, dive!" I yelled.

_What? _The pegasus asked_. No way could he . . . Holy horse feed!_

We were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward us, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang.

Luke and Porkpie swerved desperately to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over my head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.

Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car. Clearly he was seriously pissed off at my killing him with his own horn. Maybe it had gotten him teased by the other monsters down in Land of the Bad-Smelling Creeps?

"Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," I told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of danger!"

_I ain't gonna argue, boss-lady!_

Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding. Luke and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared back into the night sky.

Michael ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.

"Glad you could join us," he greeted us cheerfully, like we had arrived at a party instead of a battle. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," I replied, grimacing as I surveyed the situation. It looked pretty bleak.

"Then we're dead," he stated flatly.

"Do you still have the chariot?" Luke asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "Gave it to Clarisse. It's like Ana's been saying, a cool chariot isn't worth fighting about when the world's ending, you know?"

"Incoming!" I cried suddenly, making him spin and knock an arrow. He launched it toward the enemy.

The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew. When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot. I winced in pain and Luke rubbed his left ear with a grimace.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael huffed, glowering at the monsters.

"A gift from your dad?" I asked. "God of music?"

Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."

Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.

"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."

"No," I countered. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?"

I drew my sword.

"Ana," Luke's voice was strained, "let me come with you."

"Too dangerous," I replied. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

I kept my eyes on Luke.

He nodded reluctantly. "All right. I'll come and rescue you when you inevitably need me."

I scoffed, grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a quick, but passionate, kiss. "I think you'll find that I'll be the one saving you," I muttered against his lips as I pulled away. He looked dazed, and it made me grin.

"You guys gotta tell me your trick for breathing through your ears while kissing," Michael interrupted. "But after the battle, 'kay?"

I stepped away, waving them off as I turned to face the invaders. I walked up the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.

When the Minotaur saw me, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch.

"Hey, Buttercup," I shouted back. "Didn't I kill you already? What, getting stabbed with your own horn not an embarrassing enough death for you?"

He pounded his fist into the hood of a Lexus, and it crumpled like it was made out of aluminium foil.

A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at me. I knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and I sidestepped, bringing Anaklusmos up in a deadly motion. The hellhound disintegrated into dust and fur.

More monsters surged forward—snakes and giants and telkhines—but the Minotaur roared at them, and they backed off

"One on one?" I called. "Just like old times?"

The Minotaur's nostrils quivered. He seriously needed to keep a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his armour pocket, because that nose was wet and red and pretty gross. He could do with some deodorant, too, 'cause he stank to the heights of Olympus itself.

He unstrapped his axe and swung it around.

It was beautiful in a harsh I'm~going~to-gut~you~like~a~fish kind of way. Each of its twin blades was shaped like an omega: Ω—the last letter of the Greek alphabet. Maybe that was because the axe would be the last thing his victims ever saw. The shaft was about the same height as the Minotaur, bronze wrapped in leather. Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.

The realization infuriated me, and I felt the ground begin to tremble beneath my feet. I deftly kept my balance as I stormed forward, eyes blazing with raw hatred for the thing that had murdered so many innocent half-bloods.

I raised my sword. The monster army cheered for the Minotaur, but the sound died when I dodged his first swing and sliced his axe in half, right between the handholds.

"Moo?" he grunted.

"HAAA!" I spun and drop-kicked him in the snout. He staggered backward, trying to regain his footing, then lowered his head to charge.

He never got the chance. My sword flashed—slicing off one horn, then the other. He tried to grab me. I rolled away, picking up half of his broken axe and throwing it at a draecenae, who promptly dissolved. The other monsters backed up in stunned silence, making a circle around us.

The Minotaur bellowed in rage. He was never very smart to begin with, but now his anger made him reckless. He charged me, and I ran for the edge of the bridge, breaking through a line of dracaenae and killing three in the process.

The Minotaur must've smelled victory. He thought I was trying to get away. His minions cheered. At the edge of the bridge, I turned and braced myself against the railing to receive his charge. The Minotaur didn't even slow down.

I waited for the last second, then let out a triumphant, slightly insane, laugh as the idiot ran right into my trap. I shoved my sword straight through his fur-covered head, making him disintegrate into dust as his essence returned to Tartarus.

I laughed again, adrenaline and battle-madness thrumming through my veins. "Bye-bye, Bull Boy," I cackled, as I turned toward his army. It was now roughly one hundred and ninety-nine to one. I did the natural thing. I charged them.

You're probably wondering how the whole "invincible" thing worked: if I magically dodged every weapon, or if the weapons hit me and just didn't harm me. Honestly, I don't remember. All I knew was that I wasn't going to let these monsters kill any more of my friends.

I sliced through armour like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. I was aware of the Apollo campers behind me shooting arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about twenty left alive out of two hundred.

I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels.

"Yeah baby!" yelled Michael. "That's what I'm talking about!"

We drove them back toward the Brooklyn side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale in the east. I could see the toll stations ahead.

"Ana, we need to pull back!" Luke called to me in warning. "They're routed, we need to stop."

I struggled to stop, even as I signalled to begin falling back. The urge to continue fighting pulsed through me, and only the knowledge that my friends didn't have the protection of Achilles' Curse made me listen.

But then things turned against us.

The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armour, mounted on skeletal horses. One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.

The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and I recognized Kronos himself, his eyes like molten gold.

Luke and the Apollo campers faltered. The monsters we'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in our direction. He was a quarter mile away, but I swear I could see him smile.

"Pull back!" I ordered evenly, trying to suppress the panic and memories of the last time I had laid on eyes on the Titan Lord.

The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding.

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them off for you."

In a matter of seconds they were on me.

Michael and his archers tried to pull back, but Luke stayed right beside me, Halcyon creating a deadly arc alongside Anaklusmos as we slowly backed up the bridge.

Kronos' cavalry swirled around us, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Being the lord of time, I guess he did.

I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren't monsters. They were demigods who'd fallen under Kronos' spell, whose hurt at the gods' uncaring attitude had driven them past their brink, sending them running towards the first person who offered them a better life. I couldn't see faces underneath their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends and roommates when I was living in Cabin 11.

I slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight me on foot.

Luke and I fought back-to-back, the way we had a million and one times. A dark shape passed over me, and I dared to glance up. Blackjack and Porkpie were swooping in, kicking our enemies in the helmets and flying away like very large kamikaze pegasi.

We'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when something strange happened. I felt a chill down my spine—like that old saying about someone walking on your grave. Behind me, Luke cried out in pain.

"Luke!" I turned just in time to see him collapse, clutching his arm. A demigod with a bloody knife stood over him.

In a flash I understood what had happened. He'd been trying to stab me. Judging from the position of his blade, he would've taken me—maybe by sheer luck—in the small of my back, my only weak point.

Luke had blocked the knife with his own body.

But why? He didn't know about my weak spot. No one did.

I locked eyes with the enemy demigod. He wore an eye patch under his war helm: Alabaster Torrington. Somehow he'd survived the explosion on the Princess Andromeda. I slammed him in the face with my sword hilt so hard I dented his helm.

"Get back!" I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Luke. "No one touches him!"

"Interesting," Kronos mused. I spat at the ground in front of him, still blocking Luke's prone form. I was frantic with worry for him.

An arm wound shouldn't have taken him down like that, not unless it hit an artery, and there wasn't enough blood for that. The only explanation that I could think of was that the knife had been poisoned. I needed to get him back to the Apollo kids, so they could tend him.

Kronos towered above me on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes as if he could sense that I'd just come close to death, the way a wolf can smell fear.

"Bravely fought, Anaea Jackson," he declared. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the boy dies."

"Ana, don't even think about it," Luke groaned. His shirt was soaked with blood. I had to get him out of here _now._

"Blackjack, get him outta here!" I yelled.

As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of Luke's armour. They soared away over the river before the enemy could even react.

Kronos snarled. "Someday soon, I am going to make pegasus soup. But in the mean time . . ." He dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod."

I met his first strike with Anaklusmos. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos' smile wavered.

With an anger-filled yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement. I stabbed downward, but he rolled aside and regained his footing. His scythe flew back to his hands.

"So . . ." He studied me, looking mildly annoyed. "You had the courage to visit the Styx. I had to pressure Ethan and Annabeth in many ways to convince them so they could host myself and my consort. If only you had succumbed to my will during your captivity. You certainly have more physical and willpower. . . . But no matter. I am still more powerful. I am a TITAN."

He struck the bridge with the butt of his scythe, and a wave of pure force blasted me backward. Cars went careening. Demigods—even Kronos' own warriors—were blown off the edge of the bridge. Suspension cords whipped around, and I skidded halfway back to Manhattan.

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow.

"Michael, go!" I screamed. As I spoke I spun around just long enough to call up a wave of water, using it to push back the attackers and gain myself a few precious seconds.

"Ana, the bridge!" he called back. "It's already weak!"

At first I didn't understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos' blast and the exploding arrows.

"Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!"

It was a desperate thought—no way it would work— but I stabbed Anaklusmos into the bridge and summoned an earthquake. The magic blade sank to its hilt in the shaking asphalt, a large appearing and swiftly growing. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. Kronos' demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet. Within a few seconds, a fifty-foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me.

The vibrations died. Kronos' soldiers crept to the edge and looked at the hundred-and-thirty-foot drop into the river.

I didn't feel safe, though. The suspension cables were still attached. The men could get across that way if they were brave enough. Or maybe Kronos had a magic way to span the gap.

The Titan lord studied the problem. He looked behind him at the rising sun, then smiled across the chasm. He raised his scythe in a mock salute. "Until this evening, Jackson."

He mounted his horse, whirled around, and galloped back to Brooklyn, followed by his warriors.

I turned to thank Michael, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen.

"No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river, casting down my senses to try and find any flicker of life. Nothing.

I yelled in raw anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. The remnants of the bridge cables collapsed from the quake caused by my grief and fury.

I was about to whistle for Blackjack to help me search, when Lou Ellen's phone rang. The LCD display said I had a call from Finklestein & Associates—probably a demigod calling on a borrowed phone.

I picked up hastily, fearing that another group of defenders were calling for help that I didn't have the energy to provide.

"Ana?" Silena sounded like she'd been crying. "Plaza Hotel. You'd better come quickly and bring a healer from Apollo's cabin. It's . . . it's Luke."


	12. The Tragedy of Maria di'Angelo

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Tragedy of Maria di'Angelo**

I reacted as quickly as I could.

First, I split the cabin into two groups. The bigger group I ordered to head straight to the Plaza Hotel and the rest of his siblings to keep searching for Michael. I also, extremely reluctantly, reminded them that they would need to rest and recover. If Michael hadn't been found in an hour, then he was dead for sure. They all looked pained as they nodded in understanding.

Then I grabbed Will and we borrowed a Yamaha FZI from a sleeping biker and drove to the Plaza Hotel as fast as it would go.

I'd never driven a motorcycle before, but it wasn't any harder than riding a pegasus. More buttons, I guess. In other circumstances, I would have enjoyed it. As it was, I was too focused on Luke and the war to really notice the lovely feeling of the winds flowing through my hair.

Along the way, I noticed a lot of empty pedestals that usually held statues. Plan twenty-three seemed to be working. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

It only took us five minutes to reach the Plaza—an old-fashioned white stone hotel with a gabled blue roof, sitting at the southeast corner of Central Park.

Tactically speaking, the Plaza wasn't the best place for a headquarters. It wasn't the tallest building in town, or the most centrally located. But it had old-school style and had attracted a lot of famous demigods over the years, like the Beatles (sons of Apollo) and Alfred Hitchcock the son of Dionysus, so I figured we were in good company.

I gunned the Yamaha over the curb and swerved to a stop at the fountain outside the hotel.

Will and I hopped off. The statue at the top of the fountain called down, "Oh, fine. I suppose you want me to watch your bike too!"

She was a life-size bronze standing in the middle of a granite bowl. She wore only a bronze sheet around her legs, and she was holding a basket of metal fruit. I'd never really noticed her before, but I guess she hadn't spoken to me before, either.

"Are you supposed to be Demeter?" I wondered. "You don't look like her at all."

A bronze apple sailed over my head.

"Everyone thinks I'm Demeter.'" she complained. "I'm Pompona, the Roman Goddess of Plenty, but why should you care? Nobody cares about the_ minor _gods. If you cared about the minor gods, you wouldn't be losing this war! Three cheers for Morpheus and Hecate, I say!"

"Watch the bike," I told her, copying that supremely annoying 'I'm so great and above everyone' tone the gods used to drive me insane.

Pompona cursed in Latin and threw more fruit as Will and I ran toward the hotel.

I'd never actually been inside the Plaza. The lobby was impressive, with the crystal chandeliers and the passed-out rich people, but I didn't pay much attention. A couple of Hunters gave us directions to the elevators, and we rode up to the penthouse suites.

Demigods had completely taken over the top floors. Campers and Hunters were crashed out on sofas, washing up in the bathrooms, ripping silk draperies to bandage their wounds, and helping themselves to snacks and sodas from the minibars. A couple of timber wolves were drinking out of the toilets. I was relieved to see that so many of my friends had made it through the night alive, but everybody looked beat up and exhausted.

"Ana!" Jake Mason clapped me on the shoulder. "We're getting reports—"

"Gimme a minute," I interrupted. "Where's Luke? I'll talk after I see him."

"The terrace. He's alive, but . . ."

I pushed past him, hauling Will by his armour straps to make him hurry up.

Under different circumstances I would've loved the view from the terrace. It looked straight down onto Central Park. The morning was clear and bright—perfect for a picnic or a hike, or pretty much anything except fighting monsters. Then again, no weather was good for fighting for your life.

Luke lay on a lounge chair. His face was pale and beaded with sweat. Even though he was covered in blankets, he still shivered. Silena was wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, and there was an open bottle of nectar on the table beside them.

Will and I pushed through a crowd of Hermes kids. For once, they all looked downcast and worried. Luke had been at Camp longer than anybody, and pretty everyone had spent at least a short while under his care while waiting to be claimed. He was a pillar of support for all of us, and his injury no doubt brought our already-low morale to almost nothing.

Will unwrapped Luke's bandages to examine the wound, and I had the uncharacteristic urge to faint at the sight.

The bleeding had stopped but the gash looked deep. The skin around the cut was a horrible shade of green.

I pressed a palm to my mouth, feeling my eyes sting. "Oh, gods," I mumbled. This was all my fault. I'd gotten so into the fight, I'd forgotten that I still needed to protect myself.

What was with that anyway? I never dragged out fights. My preferred tactic was to get in and get out, finishing the enemy as quick as possible to stay as fresh as possible and keep them from gaining an advantage. Was that what everyone who warned me about the Curse meant? Did invincibility come with battle-lust? Gods help me if so.

Logically, I knew that it was still the best decision I could have made under these circumstances and that things would've been worse if I hadn't. But right now, watching Will carefully examine Luke's injury, all I could think was that I never should've gone into the damn River.

Will Solace exhaled with relief. "It's not as bad as it looks," he announced, making everybody slump in relief. Luke was one of our foundations. I don't know what I'd do without him.

"A few more minutes and we would've been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some nectar."

I grabbed the canteen. Will cleaned out the wound with the godly drink while I held Luke's hand.

He groaned and swore as he gripped my fingers so tight they turned purple, but he stayed still, like Will asked.

Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. Then he applied fresh bandages and stood up shakily.

The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as Luke did. I bit my lip, feeling guilty. The Apollo kids had been fighting as hard as the rest of us, and now we needed them to expend the remainder of their reserves on healing.

"That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies."

He grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to one of the unclaimed guys. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—"

"I would," Travis volunteered.

Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency. I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat."

Nobody disagreed. There was hardly a single demigod who hadn't already been wounded except me, and even I was exhausted. Not to mention, if not for my iron skin, I'd be dead and mutilated a couple of hundred times over.

"Come on, guys," Travis instructed his cabinmates. "Let's give Luke some space. We've got a drugstore to raid . . . I mean, visit."

"Hey, guys," I called as they turned to leave. "Spread the word that anybody with any triage skill needs to help the Apollo kids with healing. Cabin 7 kids should be focusing on serious injuries only, while others deal with minor wounds. Everyone needs to conserve as much energy as they can. This isn't over yet."

Everybody looked grim at my statement, but nodded in understanding.

The demigods shuffled back inside. Clarisse (who I hadn't noticed until then) grabbed my shoulder as she was leaving.

"We'll talk later, but the situation's under control for the moment. Jake and I are using the shield to keep an eye on things. The enemy withdrew at sunrise; not sure why. Maybe to regroup and come up with a different strategy. We've got a lookout and a runner at each bridge and tunnel, ready to warn us if there're signs of another assault coming."

"Thanks, Clarisse," I sighed, wiping a hair out of my face and rubbing my forehead in exhaustion. "I'll get a full report soon. Just give me a few minutes."

She nodded, looking unusually gentle and understanding. Clarisse was a lot more caring than people gave her credit for. We got it," she told me. "Just take your time."

She closed the terrace doors behind herself, leaving Luke and I alone.

I slumped down beside him, dabbing at his sweaty face to try and help in any small way.

He forced a weak grin at me. "Now isn't this the life?" he croaked out teasingly. "Nectar to drink to the point of bursting into flames and a monster-dust-covered babe nursing me. I can think of a dozen guys off the top of my head who'd kill to be in my position."

I flicked the cloth at him gently, glaring softly at him. "You're a moron, Casanova," I announced primly.

I tried to hide just how shaken I was by the whole thing. Luke had never been the one badly injured. That had usually been me. Part of it was that immortals were more concerned with killing Poseidon's only mortal child instead of one of Hermes' many sons. The other part was that he was just damn skilled. I was the only one who could beat him in a fight. I was used to Luke just getting broken bones or bad slashes at the worst. This had been way too close a call.

His cheeky grin softened, and he reached up to run his thumb over my cheekbone. Evidently, he saw right through my façade of calm. "I'm alright, Ariel," he promised gently. "Can't get rid o' me that easily."

I swallowed roughly and wet the cloth again. "Why did you take that knife?"

"You would've done the same for me."

It was true. There had never been a question of that. I didn't need to say the words for the whole camp to understand just how much I loved Luke Castellan. Still, I felt like somebody was poking my heart with a cold metal rod. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

I looked around to make sure we were alone. Then I leaned in close and whispered: "My Achilles spot. If that knife had so much as tipped me there, I would've died. The angle would've sent it right into my spot. You saved my life."

He got a faraway look in his eyes. His breath smelled of the blueberry muffins I liked to bake, maybe from the nectar. "I don't know, Ana. I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where . . . where is the spot?"

I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. But this was _Luke._ How could I not trust him? He had been to the Underworld and back with me, saved me in so many ways, physical and not. He was my anchor, both for the Curse and for my sanity.

"The small of my back." I spoke so softly, he had to strain to hear it. Acting as if we were embracing, in case somebody was watching, I adjusted our angle so his fingertips brushed over my mortal spot, sending electricity arcing through my spine. "Where you're touching."

I pulled away, meeting his steady blue gaze. "I swear on the Styx, I'll never tell anybody," he vowed softly. Thunder boomed, sealing the vow.

"I never doubted that for a second," I replied calmly.

He smirked at me a second later, a hint of his typical mischief playing in his eyes. "So how many times have I saved your life then?" he teased me. "Three hundred? Four?"

"Twice at most," I scoffed back. "Through pure luck. I mean, you'd need genuine skill to _actually_ win a battle. And no, arrogant belief in yourself doesn't count as ability."

"Ouch, that hurts, right here," he gripped his heart area mockingly, grinning gently while I rolled my eyes at his actions.

We watched the sun come up over the city. The traffic should've been heavy by now, but there were no cars honking, no crowds bustling along the sidewalks. It was creepy as Punishment.

Far away, I could hear a car alarm echo through the streets. A plume of black smoke curled into the sky somewhere over Harlem. I wondered how many ovens had been left on when the Morpheus spell hit; how many people had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking dinner. Pretty soon there would be more fires. Everyone in New York was in danger—and all those lives depended on us.

What did it say about the world, that it needed a bunch of teens to save it? Anybody under twelve had been left at Camp, supposedly to defend it but in reality to try and keep them safe. Not that anybody would be safe if we lost. And Luke was our oldest fighter, at twenty. This whole thing was so effed up, all I wanted to do was cry and scream in raw frustration at it all.

I ran a hand through my hair again, trying to force myself to get up and start moving. I was still leader of the defending army. I needed to know what was going on, to plan with the others how to defend against the next attack. I just couldn't bring myself to leave Luke.

"I have to tell you something," Luke revealed suddenly. His expression was guilty as he looked at me.

"You can tell me anything," I tried to assure him.

He exhaled heavily, wincing in pain. If not for the risk of burning up, I would have given him more nectar. Not for the first time, I wished that my water healing abilities extended to healing others instead of just myself.

"Last year, Annabeth came to see me."

"In person?" I felt like he'd just punched me. "She came to _Camp_?" The thought of my sanctuary being violated by the presence of that traitor made me shudder in furious disgust. How dare she?

"This was before we went into the Labyrinth, before . . ." He faltered, but I knew what he meant: before she was possessed by Themis. "You were at Montauk, and I was in the woods, hunting some Myrmekes with a few others. We split up, and I stumbled into her.

She came under a flag of truce. She said she only wanted five minutes to talk. She looked so scared, Ana. Like she was a little girl again. She told me that Kronos had a plan. He was going to use her and Ethan to take over the world. She said that she wanted to run away, like the old days. She wanted me to come with her."

"But you refused."

"Of course I did. I thought it was a trick. Plus . . . well, a lot of things have changed since the old days. I told her there was no way I would betray Camp like she had. She got angry. She said . . . she said that I might as well kill her right there, because it was the last chance I'd ever get."

His forehead broke out in sweat again. The story was taking too much of his energy.

"It's okay," I tried to soothe him. "Try to get some rest. You need it."

"You don't understand, Ana. Maybe if I'd gone with her, I could've changed her mind. Or—or I had my sword. Annabeth was unarmed. I could've—"

"Killed her?" I said. "You never could've done something like that. It would have been murder, killing an unarmed girl under a flag of truce. Against all of your morals. You're too good a person to do that.

And anyway, Ethan wasn't running away, was he? If you went with Chase, the only thing that would have changed was that I wouldn't be standing here, because that knife would have killed me."

He finally relaxed, slowly nodding his head. "You're right," he murmured. "Annie's gone. You're not. I can still protect you."

"Well, I think I tend to protect you more often than not," I joked lightly, before bending down to kiss his forehead gently. "You did the right thing, Luke. Now get some rest. I don't want to have to fight without you."

He nodded tiredly, his eyes drifting closed. I waited until he was asleep to stand and leave. Silena was in the room across, finishing wrapping a bandage around the arm of a Huntress. I was a bit surprised, given the typical rivalry between the children of Aphrodite and the Hunters, but I was even-more pleased to see that people were focusing on the important things, not ancient arguments that didn't matter in the long run.

"When you're done, can you go and sit with Luke?" I asked her. "I don't want to leave him alone. Sleep for a bit, just-"

"I'll go now," she replied. Her smile was wobbly, and she reminded me of glass, about to shatter at any moment. She'd only been getting worse since Beckendorf had died. I was really worried for her. If you wanted to come out of a battle alive, you needed to _want_ to survive, to put the effort into it. I wasn't sure that Silena did.

Impulsively, I pulled her into a hug. "It's gonna be okay," I murmured to her. "They're all gonna pay for what they've done."

She let out a ragged breath, holding on to me tightly for a minute before pulling away and heading back out onto the terrace. I watched her go worriedly for a moment, before turning away again. There was a lot to do.

I met Connor on the way down.

"Ana!" he exclaimed. "I was just coming to get you."

"What's happened?"

"Grover's back with Mrs. O'Leary," he grimaced and my stomach sank. "You need to talk to him."

Grover was having a snack in the living room. He was dressed for battle in an armoured shirt made from tree bark and twist ties, with his wooden cudgel and his reed pipes hanging from his belt.

The Demeter cabin had whipped up a whole buffet in the hotel kitchens—everything from pizza to pineapple ice cream. Unfortunately, Grover was eating the furniture. He'd already chewed the stuffing off a fancy chair and was now gnawing the armrest.

"Grover," I scolded him, once again feeling disturbingly like a nagging, middle-aged mother on TV. "we're only borrowing this place."

"Blah-ha-ha!" He had stuffing all over his face. "Sorry, Ana. It's just . . . Louis the Sixteenth furniture. Delicious. Plus I always eat furniture when I get—"

"When you get nervous," I completed. "Yeah, I know. So what's up?"

He clopped on his hooves. "I heard about Luke. Is he . . .?"

"He'll be fine. He's resting."

Grover took a deep breath. "That's good. I've mobilized most of the nature spirits in the city—well, the ones that will listen to me, anyway." He rubbed his forehead. "I had no idea acorns could hurt so much. Anyway, we're helping out as much as we can."

He told me about the skirmishes they'd seen. Mostly they'd been covering uptown, where we didn't have enough demigods. Hellhounds had appeared in all sorts of places, shadow-traveling inside our lines, and the dryads and satyrs had been fighting them off. A young dragon had appeared in Harlem, and a dozen wood nymphs died before the monster was finally defeated.

As Grover talked, Thalia entered the room with two of her hunters. She nodded to me grimly, went outside to check on Luke, and came back in. She listened while Grover completed his report—the details getting worse and worse with each word he spoke.

"We lost twenty satyrs against some giants at Fort Washington," he said, his voice trembling. "Almost half my kinsmen. River spirits drowned the giants in the end, but . . ."

Thalia shouldered her bow. "Ana, Kronos' forces are still gathering at every bridge and tunnel. And Kronos isn't the only Titan. One of my Hunters spotted a huge man in golden armour mustering an army on the Jersey shore. I'm not sure who he is, but he radiates power like only a Titan or god."

I remembered the golden Titan from my dream—the one on Mount Othrys who erupted into flames. I ran through my memories of my time in captivity, trying to force myself to be analytical as I thought about the conversations I'd overheard.

"Hyperion," I finally suggested, wincing at the name. "Titan of the Sun, Light and Power. Very vicious."

Thalia nodded. "That makes sense," she agreed. "Apollo is God of the Sun, and he glows gold too. And he was supposed to be one of the best fighters the Titans had back in the First War. He'll be a difficult foe to defeat."

"Great," I scoffed. "My favourite type of enemy is the one that's hardest to fight. Any more good news?"

Thalia shrugged. "We've sealed off the subway tunnels into Manhattan. My best trappers took care of it. Also, it seems like the enemy is waiting for tonight to attack. I think Kronos needs time to regenerate after each fight. He's still not comfortable with his new form. It's taking a lot of his power to slow time around the city."

Grover nodded. "Most of his forces are more powerful at night, too. But they'll be back after sundown."

I tried to think clearly. "Okay, well at least that gives us time to regroup as well. Any word from the gods?"

Thalia shook her head. "I know Lady Artemis would be here if she could. Athena, too. But Zeus has ordered them to stay at his side. The last I heard, Typhon was destroying the Ohio River valley. He should reach the Appalachian Mountains by midday."

"So at best," I concluded, "we've got another two days before he arrives. Damn it." I fell silent, wondering if there was anything I had missed.

"Okay, what about Themis?" I wondered. "Two Titans are bad enough. We can't handle three of them."

"I'd be shocked if she fought in any of the battles personally," Clarisse frowned. "She isn't depicted as a warrior. I imagine she'll stay behind until they're about to enter Olympus, then enter with Kronos."

"I hope so," I muttered. At least it would give us time to deal with Hyperion. Glancing at Thalia, I hid a wince. Her expression was wooden, but the pain over Annabeth couldn't quite be hidden.

We were all silent for a minute, lost in thought, until Jake cleared his throat. He'd been standing there so silently I'd almost forgotten he was in the room.

"Ana, there's something else," he said. "The way Kronos showed up at the Williamsburg Bridge, like he knew you were going there. And he shifted his forces to our weakest points. As soon as we deployed, he changed tactics. He barely touched the Lincoln Tunnel, where the Hunters were strong. He went for our weakest spots, like he knew."

"Like he had inside information," I stated. "The spy."

Clarisse spat on the floor and cursed bitterly in Ancient Greek.

"What spy?" Thalia demanded.

I told her about the silver charm Kronos had shown me, the communication device.

"That's bad," she declared grimly. "Very bad."

"It could be anyone," Jake pointed out. "We were all standing there when Ana gave the orders."

"No," Clarisse disagreed. "Everyone might've known our deployments around the city, but only the counsellors knew the details of Ana and Beckendorf's mission to the Princess Andromeda. It's gotta be a counsellor."

"Unless they were listening in on the planning," Katie reasoned.

"But what can we do?" Grover asked. "Frisk everyone until we find a scythe charm?"

They all looked at me, waiting for a decision. I couldn't afford to show how panicked I felt, even if things seemed hopeless.

"I have an idea," I said after a minute. "Everybody will swear their loyalty to Olympus on the Styx. Even if it doesn't tell us who the spy is, it'll prevent them from continuing to give our plans to Kronos. I'll go first: I, Anaea Jackson, pledge my loyalty to Olympus and the Gods that rule it. Never will I willingly or knowingly aid the Titans in destroying the West. This I swear on the Styx."

Thunder boomed, sealing my oath, and I looked expectantly at the others.

Everyone looked uncertain, but Clarisse stepped forward after a second. "I, Clarisse La Rue, swear that I am loyal to Olympus and the Gods, and I will never willingly aid the Titans in destroying the West. This I swear on the River Styx."

Thunder boomed again, and Thalia went next. Twenty minutes later, the entire army of campers, hunters and even the nature spirits had all given their oaths. I could only hope that it was enough.

I smiled, not letting any of my worry touch my expression. "You guys were amazing last night," I told them sincerely. "I couldn't ask for a braver army. Let's set up a rotation for the watches. Rest up while you can. We've got a long night ahead of us."

The demigods mumbled agreement. They went their separate ways to sleep or eat or repair their weapons.

"Ana, you too," Thalia urged. "We'll keep an eye on things. Go lie down. We need you in good shape for tonight."

I didn't argue too hard. I didn't bother looking for an empty bedroom, simply curling up on an armchair near the makeshift ops centre so I could be found quickly if there was an emergency. I thought I would be too wired to sleep, but my eyes closed almost immediately.

In my dream, I saw Nico alone in the gardens of Hades. He'd just dug a hole in one of Persephone's flower beds, which I didn't think would make the queen very happy.

I could figure out what he was doing, and it made me grimace. This was not a power I was comfortable around.

He poured a goblet of wine into the hole and began to chant. "Let the dead taste again. Let them rise and take this offering. Maria di'Angelo, show yourself!"

White smoke gathered. A human figure formed, but it wasn't Nico's mother. It was a girl with dark hair, olive skin, and the silvery clothes of a Hunter.

"Bianca," Nico said. "But—"

_Don't summon our mother, Nico, _she warned him. _She is the one spirit you are forbidden to see._

"Why?" he demanded. "What's our father hiding?"

_Pain, _Bianca answered. _Hatred. A curse that stretches back to the Great Prophecy._

"What do you mean?" Nico demanded. "I have to know!"

_The knowledge will only hurt you. Remember what I said: holding grudges is a fatal flaw for children of Hades._

"I know that," Nico huffed. "But I'm not the same as I used to be, Bianca. Stop trying to protect me!"

_Brother, you don't understand—_

Nico swiped his hand through the mist, and Bianca s image dissipated.

"Maria di'Angelo," he repeated. "Speak to me!"

A different image formed. It was a scene rather than a single ghost. In the mist, I saw Nico and Bianca as little children, playing in the lobby of an elegant hotel, chasing each other around marble columns.

A woman sat on a nearby sofa. She wore a black dress, gloves, and a black veiled hat like a star from an old 1940s movie. She had Bianca's smile and Nico's eyes.

On a chair next to her sat a large man in a black pinstripe suit. With a shock, I realized it was Hades. He was leaning toward the woman, using his hands as he talked, like he was agitated.

"Please, my dear," he, to my utter shock, actually begged her. "You must come to the Underworld. I don't care what Persephone thinks! I can keep you safe there."

"No, my love." She spoke with an Italian accent. "Raise our children in the land of the dead? I will not do this."

"Maria, listen to me. The war in Europe has turned the other gods against me. A prophecy has been made. My children are no longer safe. Poseidon and Zeus have forced me into an agreement. None of us are to have demigod children ever again."

"But you already _have_ Nico and Bianca. Surely—"

"No! The prophecy warns of a child who turns sixteen. Zeus has decreed that the children I currently have must be turned over to Camp Half-Blood for proper training, but I know what he means. At best they'll be watched, imprisoned, turned against their father. Even more likely, he will not take a chance. He won't allow my demigod children to reach sixteen. He'll find a way to destroy them, and I won't risk that!"

"Certamente," Maria agreed. "We will stay together. Zeus is un imbecile."

I couldn't help but admire her courage, but Hades glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Maria, please. I told you, Zeus gave me a deadline of last week to turn over the children. His wrath will be horrible, and I cannot hide you forever. As long as you are with the children, you are in danger too."

Maria smiled, and again it was shocking how much she looked like her daughter. "You are a god, my love. You will protect us. But I will not take Nico and Bianca to the Underworld."

I winced, pitying the woman. She had no idea of the danger she was putting herself and her children in by defying the gods. I could, to a certain extent, manage. Partly due to the double-edged 'protection' of the Great Prophecy and partially due to the gods not wanting to risk my father's wrath. Regardless of Hades' care for her, Maria di'Angelo had no shield against Zeus and his cruel temper. She mustn't have read the legends, otherwise she would have seen the sense in Hades' pleas.

Hades wrung his hands. "Then, there is another option. I know a place in the desert where time stands still. I could send the children there, just for a while, for their own safety, and we could be together. I will build you a golden palace by the Styx."

I blinked, reminded of the entry in one of Mom's diaries, where she had written that Poseidon had offered to build her a palace beneath the sea. If she had accepted, would she still be alive?

Nevertheless, I could tell that, like my mother, Maria was not the type of women to revel in jewels and palaces. Especially if it meant abandoning the children she obviously adored. She would refuse, and it would kill her.

Maria di'Angelo laughed gently. "You are a kind man, my love. A generous man. The other gods should see you as I do, and they would not fear you so. But Nico and Bianca need their mother. Besides, they are only children. The gods wouldn't really hurt them."

"You don't know my family," Hades said darkly. "Please, Maria, I can't lose you."

She touched his lips with her fingers. "You will not lose me. Wait for me while I get my purse. Watch the children."

She kissed the lord of the dead and rose from the sofa. Hades watched her walk upstairs as if her every step away caused him pain.

Strange to think of a god genuinely caring about someone, especially a mortal.

A moment later, he tensed. The children stopped playing as if they sensed something too.

"No!" Hades cried, jumping to his feet. But even his godly powers were too slow. He only had time to erect a wall of black energy around the children before the hotel exploded.

The force was so violent, the entire mist image dissolved.

When it came into focus again, I saw Hades kneeling in the ruins, holding the broken form of Maria di'Angelo. From the expression she wore, she'd been taken completely by surprise by her death. Maybe she hadn't even felt it happen. I hoped so, for the sake of the lovely woman.

Fires still burned all around the room. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled.

Little Nico and Bianca stared at their mother uncomprehendingly. The Fury Alecto appeared behind them, hissing and flapping her leathery wings. The children didn't seem to notice her.

"Zeus!" Hades shook his fist at the sky. "I will crush you for this! I will bring her back!"

"My lord, you cannot," Alecto warned. "You of all immortals must respect the laws of death."

Hades glowed with rage. For a frightening moment I thought he would show his true form and vaporize his own children, but at the last moment he seemed to regain control.

"Take them," he told Alecto, choking back a sob. "Wash their memories clean in the Lethe and bring them to the Lotus Hotel. Zeus will not be able to harm them there."

"As you wish, my lord," Alecto said. "And the woman's body?

"Take her as well," he answered bitterly. "Give her the ancient rites."

Alecto, the children, and Maria's body dissolved into shadows, leaving Hades alone in the ruins.

"I warned you," a new voice said.

Hades turned. A girl in a multicoloured dress stood by the smouldering remains of the sofa. She had short black hair and sad eyes. She was no more than twelve. I didn't know her, but she looked strangely familiar.

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl dismissed the threat calmly. "The power of Delphi protects me."

With a chill, I realized I was looking at the Oracle of Delphi, back when she was alive and young. Somehow, seeing her like this was even more disturbing than seeing her as a mummy.

A sick feeling twisted my gut. Something awful was about to happen. Something just as terrible as Maria's murder.

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this."

He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she stated, "because you defied his will. I had nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner."

"I couldn't! Maria would not let me! Besides, they were innocent."

"Nevertheless, they are your children, which makes them dangerous. Even if you put them away in the Lotus Hotel, you only delay the problem. Nico and Bianca will never be able to rejoin the world lest they turn sixteen."

"Because of your so-called Great Prophecy. And you have forced me into an oath to have no other children. You have left me with nothing!"

"I foresee the future," the girl shrugged. "I cannot change it."

Black fire lit the god's eyes, and I knew that he was about to do something awful. I wanted to yell at the girl to hide or run.

"Then, Oracle, hear the words of Hades," he growled. "Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I bring yon an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

The girl's eyes widened. "You would not—"

"I swear," Hades declared, "as long as my children remain outcasts, as long as I labour under the curse of your Great Prophecy, the Oracle of Delphi will never have another mortal host. You will never rest in peace. No other will take your place. Your body will wither and die, and still the Oracle's spirit will be locked inside you. You will speak your bitter prophecies until you crumble to nothing. The Oracle will die with you!"

The girl screamed, and the misty image was blasted to shreds. Nico fell to his knees in Persephone's garden, his face white with shock. Standing in front of him was the real Hades, towering in his black robes and scowling down at his son.

"And just what," he asked Nico darkly, "do you think you're doing?"

A black explosion filled my dreams. Then the scene changed.

Rachel was walking along a white sand beach. She wore a swimsuit with a T-shirt wrapped around her waist. Her shoulders and face were sunburned.

She knelt and began writing in the surf with her finger. I tried to make out the letters. I thought my dyslexia was acting up until I realized she was writing in Ancient Greek.

That was impossible. The dream had to be false. A regular dream for once, not a vision.

Rachel finished writing a few words and muttered, "What in the world?"

I can read Greek, but I only recognized one word before the sea washed it away: Ανεά. My name: Anaea.

Rachel stood abruptly and backed away from the surf.

"Oh, gods," she gasped. "That's what it means." She turned and ran, kicking up sand as she raced back to her family's villa.

She pounded up the porch steps, breathing hard. Her father looked up from his Wall Street Journal

"Dad." Rachel marched up to him. "We have to go back."

Her dad's mouth twitched, like he was trying to remember how to smile. "Back? We just got here."

"There's trouble in New York. Ana's in danger."

"Did she call you?"

"No . . . not exactly. But I know. It's a feeling."

Mr. Dare folded his newspaper. "Your mother and I have been looking forward to this vacation for a long time."

"No you haven't! You both hate the beach! You're just too stubborn to admit it."

"Now, Rachel—"

"I'm telling you something is wrong in New York! The whole city . . . I don't know what exactly, but it's under attack."

Her father sighed. "I think we would've heard about something like that on the news."

"No," Rachel insisted. "Not this kind of attack. Have you had any calls since we got here?"

Her father frowned. "No . . . but it is the weekend, in the middle of the summer."

"You always get calls," Rachel pressed him desperately. "You've got to admit that's strange."

Her father hesitated. "We can't just leave. We've spent a lot of money."

"Look," Rachel said. "Daddy . . . Ana needs me. I have to deliver a message. It's life or death."

"What message? What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you.

"Then you can't go."

Rachel closed her eyes like she was getting up her courage. "Dad . . . let me go, and I'll make a deal with you."

Mr. Dare sat forward. Deals were something he understood. "I'm listening."

"Clarion Ladies Academy. I'll—I'll go there in the fall. I won't even complain. But you have to get me back to New York right now."

He was silent for a long time. Then he opened his phone and made a call.

"Douglas? Prep the plane. We're leaving for New York. Yes . . . immediately."

Rachel flung her arms around him, and her father seemed surprised, like she'd never hugged him before. I wouldn't blame her if she hadn't.

"I'll make it up to you, Dad!"

He smiled, but his expression was chilly. He studied her like he wasn't seeing his daughter—just the young lady he wanted her to be, once Clarion Academy got through with her.

"Yes, Rachel," he agreed. "You most certainly will."

The scene faded. I mumbled in my sleep: "Rachel, no!" She couldn't come here, she'd be killed!

I was still tossing and turning when Thalia shook me awake.

"Ana," she said. "Come on. It's late afternoon. We've got visitors."

I sat up, disoriented. The bed was too comfortable, and I hated sleeping in the middle of the day. It knocked my body clock completely off.

"Visitors?" I checked, stretching and swinging my legs out of the tangled sheets.

Thalia nodded grimly. "A Titan wants to see you, under a flag of truce. He has a message from Kronos."


	13. I Get An Early Birthday 'Present'

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I'm going away for a week today, so it'll be my last update for a while. Adios, amigos!**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**I Get An Early Birthday 'Present'**

We could see the white flag from half a mile away. It was as big as a soccer field, carried by a thirty-foot-tall giant with bright blue skin and icy grey hair.

"A Hyperborean," Thalia stated, spine rigid. She gripped her mace canister in white-knuckled fists. "The giants of the north. It's a bad sign that they sided with Kronos. They're usually peaceful."

"You've met them?" I asked.

"Mmm. There's a big colony in Alberta. You do _not_ want to get into a snowball fight with those guys."

"Noted. Thanks for the advice."

"Always happy to help out my favourite cousin."

As the giant got closer, I could see three human-size envoys with him: a half-blood in armour, an empousa demon with a black dress and flaming hair, and a tall man in a tuxedo. The empousa held the tux guy's arm, so they looked like a couple on their way to a Broadway show or something—  
except for her flaming hair and fangs. That kinda ruined the effect a tad.

The group walked leisurely toward the Heckscher Playground. The swings and ball courts were empty. The only sound was the fountain on Umpire Rock. Creepy.

I looked at Grover. "I take it that the one in the tux is the Titan?"

He nodded nervously. "He looks like a magician. I hate magicians. They usually have rabbits."

I stared at him. "You're scared of _bunnies_?" How did I not know this?

"Blah-hah-hah! They're big bullies. Always stealing celery from defenceless satyrs!"

Thalia coughed, hiding a grin and a laugh.

"What?" Grover demanded, looking indignant.

"We'll have to work on protecting your veggies from the evil rabbits later," I told him. "Here they come."

The man in the tux stepped forward. He was taller than an average human—about seven feet. His black hair was tied in a ponytail. Dark round glasses covered his eyes, but what really caught my attention was the skin on his face. It was covered in scratches, like he'd been attacked by a small animal—a hamster with rabies, maybe.

"Anaea Jackson," he said in a silky voice. "It's a great honour."

His lady friend the empousa hissed at me. She'd probably heard how I'd destroyed two of her sisters last summer. If she wanted to see them again, I'd be happy to send her in their direction.

I told her so, making her snarl.

"My dear," Titan Tux Dude said to her, patting her arm. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable over there, eh?"

She released his arm and drifted over to a park bench, glaring at me. I faked a blatantly false smile back at her, then turned away in clear dismissal of the threat she could pose. I could hear her hissing again, insulted by my clear contempt.

Meanwhile, I glanced at the armed demigod behind Tux Titan. I hadn't recognized him in his new helmet, but it was my old backstabbing buddy Alabaster Torrington. His nose looked like a squashed tomato from our fight on the Williamsburg Bridge. That made me feel better.

"Hey, Ally," I chirruped cheerfully, as if I wasn't resisting the seductive urge to shove my sword through his stomach. "You're looking good. Crooked noses are all the range this year, apparently. Girls must be falling at your feet. You're welcome."

Torrington glared at me, while I smirked and flipped my braid over my shoulder.

"To business." Tux Titan extended his hand. "I am Prometheus."

"The guy who gave fire to humanity and ended up becoming bird food before Heracles let you out 'cause of it?" I asked bluntly, ignoring the hand. No way was I gonna share a handshake with a Titan, truce or not. "What do you want?"

Prometheus frowned, dropping the hand. "Straight to business then? Very well, Anaea Jackson, let us parley."

He waved me toward a picnic table and we sat down. Thalia and Grover stood behind me.

The blue giant propped his white flag against a tree and began absently playing on the playground. He stepped on the monkey bars and crushed them, but he didn't seem angry. He just frowned and said, "Uh-oh." Then he stepped in the fountain and broke the concrete bowl in half. "Uh-oh." The water froze where his foot touched it. A bunch of stuffed animals hung from his belt—the huge kind you get for grand prizes at an arcade. He reminded me of Tyson, and the idea of fighting him depressed me.

Gods, I hated war. Whoever said they won a war was talking complete bullshit. Everyone lost in war.

Prometheus sat forward and laced his fingers. He looked earnest, kindly, and wise. "Ana, your position is weak. You know you can't stop another assault."

"We're doing just fine, thanks," I replied curtly. "But if you're so concerned for us, then go ahead and convince your side to lay down your arms and fuck off back to the Pit. We'll set up a parade for you."

Prometheus looked pained, like he really cared what happened to me. "Ana, I am the one who gave fire to mortals so that you could advance. A half-blood released me from my punishment. I want to help you, I truly do. But I'm the Titan of forethought. I know what's going to happen."

"Also the Titan of crafty counsel," Grover put in. "Emphasis on crafty."

Prometheus shrugged. "True enough, satyr. But I supported the gods in the last war. I told Kronos: 'You don't have the strength. You'll lose.' And I was right. So you see, I know how to pick the winning side. This time, I'm backing Kronos."

"Because Zeus chained you to a rock," I pointed out.

"Partly, yes. I won't deny I want revenge. But that's not the only reason I'm supporting Kronos. It's the wisest choice. I'm here because I thought you might listen to reason."

He drew a map on the table with his finger. Wherever he touched, golden lines appeared, glowing on the concrete. "This is Manhattan. We have armies here, here, here, and here. We know your numbers. We outnumber you twenty to one."

I glanced at it, then looked away and shrugged indifferently. "I'm really not a reasonable person," I informed him. "Stubborn, though. Drives people crazy. I don't give an inch."

He frowned at me. "This path will only lead to the deaths of your friends and you."

"Actually, the Prophecy gives two possible outcomes," I replied, hiding my clenched fists beneath the table. "Meaning we could win _or_ lose. Same as in any battle. The Fates will decide this battle, not your spy's info."

Prometheus smiled apologetically, acknowledging my mention of the infiltrator. "Our forces are growing daily," he told me. "Tonight, Kronos will attack. You will be overwhelmed. You've fought bravely, but there's just no way you can hold all of Manhattan. You'll be forced to retreat to the Empire State Building. There you'll be destroyed. I have seen this. It will happen."

I thought about the picture Rachel had drawn in my dreams—an army at the base of the Empire State Building. I remembered the words of the young girl Oracle in my dream: I foresee the future. I cannot change it. Prometheus spoke with such certainty it was hard not to believe him.

I didn't let any of that touch my expression, though. "And what would happen if we surrendered?" I inquired mildly, tilting my head to the side. "Kronos will just leave us alone? Don't make me laugh, my ribs are sore. Anyway, there's something that all of those treacherous cowards who abandoned camp for your army don't seem to realize," I gave a pointed sneer towards Torrington, who flushed indignantly.

"And what is that?" Prometheus raised an eyebrow.

"We're demi_gods_," I declared flatly, emphasizing the 'gods'. "If the gods are destroyed, so too are we. We have a symbiotic relationship. The gods need us to survive, and we need them. Simple as that."

I leaned back, shrugging, taking in the looks on everyone's faces. Thalia was smirking outright, showing teeth, and Grover had a hint of smugness peeking through his worried expression. Torrington looked like he had just been slapped across the face, while Prometheus was still and neutral.

I could see him trying to figure out a way to respond, and in the end he continued with the whole 'I'm your friend' routine, that I was seriously getting sick of.

"Ana, only the gods who defy Kronos will be destroyed," he said, as if that was supposed to reassure me. "Those who aid him will be rewarded for their service. The demigod species will continue for millennia, and I'm sure that His Lordship will ensure that you are able to live in peace, unhampered by monsters attacking you."

I scoffed outright at that, rolling my eyes. "I call bullshit," I retorted. "At least try and make your lies believable. Gods, I can't believe anybody ever fell for this shit. Why couldn't Heracles have done us all a favour and left you as bird food for the vultures?"

I felt a wave of triumph at the irritation that flashed across his face, before he smoothed it out again.

Prometheus brushed a speck off his tux lapel. "Understand, Ana. You are refighting the Trojan War here. Patterns repeat themselves in history. They reappear just as monsters do. A great siege. Two armies. The only difference is, this time you are defending. You are Troy. And you know what happened to the Trojans, don't you?"

"So you're going to cram a wooden horse into the elevator at the Empire State Building?" I asked scathingly. "Good luck with that."

Prometheus smiled. "Troy was completely destroyed, Ana. You don't want that to happen here. As I said, if you stand down, New York will be spared. Your forces will be granted amnesty. I will personally assure your safety. Let Kronos take Olympus. Who cares? Typhon will destroy the gods any way."

"Right," I said. "And I'm supposed to believe Kronos would spare mortals, in the city or out. He'll let them go along living in peace, unaffected by this."

"All he wants is Olympus," Prometheus promised. "The might of the gods is tied to their seats of power. You saw what happened to Poseidon once his undersea palace was attacked."

I couldn't stop my wince, remembering how old and decrepit my father looked. The memory was more than a little disturbing, considering I had only ever seen him as the invincible King of the Oceans.

"Yes," Prometheus sighed with fake sadness. "I know that was hard for you. When Kronos destroys Olympus, the gods will fade. They will become so weak they will be easily defeated. Kronos would rather do this while Typhon has the Olympians distracted in the west. Much easier. Fewer lives lost.

But make no mistake, the best you can do is slow us down. The day after tomorrow, Typhon arrives in New York, and you will have no chance at all. The gods and Mount Olympus will still be destroyed, but it will be much messier. Much, much worse for you and your city. Either way, the Titans will rule."

Thalia pounded her fist on the table. "I serve Artemis. All of the Hunters will fight to the last woman. Ana, you're not seriously going to listen to this κώλος, are you?"

"Of course not," I answered evenly. "I pledged my loyalty to the gods and to protect Olympus. If you thought, Prometheus, that you could persuade me to join the Titans after they killed people I cared about and tortured me, then you're even more of an idiot than I am. My people will fight to our last breaths to preserve the West, and that's the end of the matter."

The empousa snarled. Her hair erupted in fresh flames, but Prometheus just sighed.

"If you change your mind," he said, "I have a gift for you."

A Greek vase appeared on the table. It was about three feet high and a foot wide, glazed with black-and-white geometric designs. The ceramic lid was fastened with a leather harness. Just looking at it gave me goosebumps.

Grover whimpered when he saw it. I covered my mouth in shock.

Thalia gasped. "That's not—"

"Yes," Prometheus confirmed. "You recognize it."

A lump formed in my throat. "Pandora's pithos?"

Prometheus shook his head. "Yes. It belonged to my sister-in-law, Pandora. She opened this jar, which contained most of the demons that now haunt mankind—fear, death, hunger, sickness."

"Don't forget me," the empousa purred.

"Indeed," Prometheus conceded. "The first empousa was also trapped in this jar, released by Pandora. But what I find curious about the story—Pandora always gets the blame. She is punished for being curious. The gods would have you believe that this is the lesson: mankind should not explore. They should not ask questions. They should do what they are told.

In truth, Anaea, this jar was a trap designed by Zeus and the other gods. It was revenge on me and my entire family—my poor simple brother Epimetheus and his wife Pandora. The gods knew she would open the jar. They were willing to punish the entire race of humanity along with us."

I thought about my dream of Hades and Maria di'Angelo. Zeus had destroyed an entire hotel and everyone within it to eliminate two demigod children—just to save his own skin, because he was scared of a prophecy. He'd killed an innocent woman and probably hadn't lost any sleep over it.

Hades was no better. He wasn't powerful enough to take his revenge on Zeus, so he cursed the Oracle, dooming a young girl to a horrible fate.

Not to mention Halcyon Green. Luke had told me the old son of Apollo's story, how he had been 'gifted' (a.k.a cursed) with foreknowledge. He had saved a young girl's life, and his father had punished him harshly for it. He had been trapped alone in a mansion for years, stripped of his voice and guarded 24/7 by lectrotae, only able to communicate through them.

Prometheus tapped the lid of Pandora's jar. "Only one spirit remained inside when Pandora opened it."

"Hope," I murmured.

Prometheus looked pleased. "Very good, Anaea. Elpis, the Spirit of Hope, would not abandon humanity. Hope does not leave without being given permission. She can only be released by a child of man."

The Titan slid the jar across the table.

"I give you this as a reminder of what the gods are like," he said. "Keep Elpis, if you wish. But if you decide that you have seen enough destruction, enough futile suffering, then open the jar. Let Elpis go. Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient. He will spare the survivors."

I stared at the jar and got a very bad feeling. I figured Pandora had been completely ADHD, like me. I could never leave things alone. I didn't like temptation. What if this was my choice? Maybe the prophecy all came down to my keeping this jar closed or opening it.

I clenched my fists, trying to think without Prometheus' carefully chosen words clouding my judgement.

I had never liked the gods, nor ignored their faults. I simply believed they were the best of a bunch of bad options.

I didn't fight for them, I fought for the West, for Chiron who believed in me and raised me, the innocent mortals who had no idea about any of this, and my friends. For those still living and those who had sacrificed their lives to stop Kronos.

How could I betray any of them by agreeing to the truce, taking the Oath we had all made just hours ago into account or not?

The thought of Beckendorf's last moments, of Michael's sacrifice made up my mind. My wavering resolve hardened, and I shoved the pithos back to him, lifting my chin in defiance.

"I said we'll fight to our last breath, and I meant it," I insisted. "Take your damn jar and get the γαμώ away from my people!"

"It's too late to take it back," Prometheus replied. "The gift is given. It cannot be taken back."

He stood. The empousa came forward and slipped her arm through his.

"Morrain!" Prometheus called to the blue giant. "We are leaving. Get your flag."

"Uh-oh," the giant mumbled, stumbling to his large feet.

"We will see you soon, Anaea Jackson," Prometheus promised. "One way or another."

Alabaster gave me one last hateful look. Then the truce party turned and strolled up the lane through Central Park, like it was just a regular sunny Sunday afternoon.

I waited until they were out of sight to bury my head in my hands, begging the Fates to have mercy on us all.


	14. The Battle of the Reservoir

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Battle of the Reservoir**

We walked back to the hotel in silence, all of us lost in thought.

"I'm going to check on the Hunters, then get some more sleep before nightfall," Thalia declared once we arrived. She glanced pointedly at me, stopping me as I made for the makeshift command centre. "You should crash too."

"The last thing I need is more dreams," I replied tensely. "Anyway, I need to update the counsellors about the parley." They had the right to know.

"I know what you mean about the dreams, believe me." Her dark expression made me wonder what she'd been dreaming about. It was a common demigod problem: the more dangerous our situation became, the worse and more frequent our visions got. "But Ana, there's no telling when you'll get another chance for rest. It's going to be a long night—maybe our _last_ night. Update the others, then catch a few zee's"

I didn't like it, but I knew she was right. I nodded wearily and gave her Pandora's jar. "Do me a favour. Lock this in the hotel vault, will you? It clashes with the decor."

Thalia smiled. "You got it."

I popped into the lobby/command centre where Clarisse and Chris were running things. We swapped reports quickly, and I was relieved to learn that nothing had happened while I was gone, and over two-thirds of our people had been declared (pretty much) fully-healed by the medics.

"You did the right thing," Clarisse told me, when I revealed my refusal of Prometheus' offer.

"Yeah," Chris agreed. His expression was haunted. "Believe me, Ana. We're better dying honourably in battle for Olympus, than living under Kronos' rule. Anyway, we swore oaths not to help him. You made the right call."

I nodded, relieved to have their approval.

"Get some sleep," Clarisse added, a hint of worry for me in her gruff tone. "You look like you're about to collapse right there."

I scoffed, running a hand through my knotted ponytail. "As if you're doing so much better."

"I'm only up an hour," Clarisse retorted. "Go!" She softened a bit and added a gentl(ish) "I'll make sure that you're woken if something happens or before sundown. Whichever happens first."

I sighed, but was too exhausted to argue any further. I left and found the nearest bed where I promptly curled up and passed out. But of course sleep only brought more nightmares.

I saw the undersea palace of my father. The enemy army was closer now, entrenched only a few hundred yards outside the palace. The fortress walls were completely destroyed. The temple Poseidon had been using as his headquarters was burning with Greek fire.

I zoomed in on the armoury, where my sweet baby brother and some other Cyclopes were on lunch break, eating from huge jars of Skippy extra-chunky peanut butter. As I watched, the outer wall of the armoury exploded. A Cyclops warrior stumbled inside, collapsing on the lunch table. Tyson knelt down to help, but it was too late. The Cyclops dissolved into sea silt.

Enemy giants moved toward the breach, and Tyson picked up the fallen warrior's club. He yelled something to his fellow blacksmiths—probably "For Poseidon!"—but with his mouth full of peanut butter it sounded like "PUH PTEH BUN!" His brethren all grabbed hammers and chisels, yelled, "PEANUT BUTTER!" and charged behind Tyson into battle.

Then the scene shifted. I was with Alabaster Torrington at the enemy camp. What I saw made me shiver, partly because the army was so huge, partly because I recognized the place.

We were in the backwoods of New Jersey, on a crumbling road lined with run-down businesses and tattered billboard signs. A trampled fence ringed a big yard full of cement statuary. The sign above the warehouse was hard to read because it was in red cursive, but I knew what it said: AUNTY EM'S GARDEN GNOME EMPORIUM.

I hadn't thought about the place in years. In fact, I deliberately tried not to remember it. Meeting Medusa was _not_ a fond memory.

The store was clearly abandoned. The statues were broken and spray-painted with graffiti. A cement satyr—Grover's Uncle Ferdinand—had lost his arm. Part of the warehouse roof had caved in. A big yellow sign pasted on the door read: CONDEMNED.

Hundreds of tents and fires surrounded the property. Mostly I saw monsters, but there were some human mercenaries in combat fatigues and demigods in armour, too. A purple-and-black banner hung outside the emporium, guarded by two huge blue Hyperboreans.

Torrington was crouched at the nearest campfire. A couple of other demigods sat with him, sharpening their swords. The doors of the warehouse opened, and Prometheus stepped out.

"Torrington," he called. "The master would like to speak to you."

Alabaster stood up warily. "Something wrong?"

Prometheus smiled. "You'll have to ask him."

One of the other demigods snickered. "Nice knowing you."

Alabaster readjusted his sword belt and headed into the warehouse.

Except for the hole in the roof, the place was just as I remembered it being. Statues of terrified people stood frozen in midscream. In the snack bar area, the picnic tables had been moved aside. Right between the soda dispenser and pretzel warmer stood a pair of golden thrones, one slightly smaller and more feminine than the other.

Kronos lounged on the larger throne, his scythe across his lap. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and with his brooding expression he looked almost human.

Beside him, Themis/Annabeth sat straight, with a haughty demeanour and a sneer of disdain on her face. Unlike Kronos, she was dressed in a Greek-style dress made of red silk with a shawl around her shoulders that was a shade darker. She too looked like a regular, if arrogant, person.

Then Kronos saw Alabaster, and his face contorted into a very inhuman smile. His golden eyes glowed.

"Well, Torrington. What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

Torrington hesitated. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus is better suited to—"

"When your king asks you a question, you reply!" Themis snapped, her eyes flashing furiously. "Pathetic, insolent half-breed-"

"My dear," Kronos drawled, patting her wrist and making her fall silent, though she maintained her glare.

"I . . . I don't think Jackson will surrender. Ever," Torrington croaked out, shaking in fear of the Titans. "She doesn't like the gods, everyone in Camp knows that, but she _hates_ the Titans and her loyalty to Camp, Chiron and her friends is absolute. As long as they're loyal to the gods, so is she."

I'd give the traitor this much. He could predict me. I'd make sure that he suffered for that, too.

Kronos nodded. "Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"N-no, sir.

"You look nervous, Torrington." Kronos was the one speaking, but it was Themis' vicious, sadistic grin, was what really freaked me out. Kronos seemed casually cruel. Themis just seemed to take pleasure in hurting and terrifying people. Disturbing to think that justice was one of her domains.

"No, sir. It's just . . . I heard this was the lair of —"

"Medusa?" Themis grinned mockingly. "Oh, yes. Such a shame that she hasn't reformed since Jackson defeated her. She would have been a valuable asset in the campaign."

"Ah, yes milady," Torrington shifted in discomfort.

Good. Discomfort wasn't remotely close to what he deserved. Treacherous sonovabitch.

"Anyway," Kronos drawled. "There are forces far more dangerous than the gorgons in this room."

He looked over at a Laistrygonian giant who was munching noisily on some French fries. Kronos waved his hand and the giant froze. A French fry hung suspended in mid-air halfway between his hand and his mouth.

"Why turn them to stone," Kronos asked rhetorically, "when you can freeze time itself?"

His golden eyes bored into Torrington's face. "Now, tell me one more thing. What happened last night on the Williamsburg Bridge?"

Torrington trembled. Beads of perspiration were popping up on his forehead. "I . . . I don't know, sir."

"Yes, you do." Kronos rose from his seat. "When you attacked Jackson, something happened. Something was not quite right. The boy, Luke, jumped in your way."

"He wanted to save her."

"But she is invulnerable," Kronos said quietly. "You saw that yourself."

"I can't explain it. It was in the heat of battle. Maybe he forgot."

"He forgot," Kronos repeated contemptuously. "Yes, that must've been it. Oh dear, I forgot my friend is invulnerable and took a knife for her. Oops."

"Foolish child," Themis scoffed. "Your mortal roots are showing. Idiot things can't even see what's going on right in front of their eyes. Such a waste of space and air. I-"

"My dear," Kronos repeated as he settled a hand on her knee, giving her a stern look. Then he turned back to the pale son of Hecate. "Tell me, Alabaster, where were you aiming when you stabbed at Jackson?"

My heart stopped in fear as Torrington frowned. He clasped his hand as if he were holding a blade, and mimed a thrust. "I'm not sure, sir. It all happened so fast. I wasn't aiming for any spot in particular."

"Useless fool," Themis complained under her breath, drumming her fingers on the armrest of her throne.

Kronos' fingers tapped the blade of his scythe while his consort glared. "I see," the Titan king stated in a chilly tone. "If your memory improves, I will expect—"

Suddenly the Titan lord winced. The giant in the corner unfroze and the French fry fell into his mouth. Kronos stumbled backward and sank into his throne.

"My lord?" Torrington started forward.

"Kronos, my beloved-" Themis reached out to him, for once appearing concerned instead of haughty.

"I—" The voice was weak, but just for a moment it was Ethan's. Then Kronos's expression hardened. He raised his hand and flexed his fingers slowly as if forcing them to obey.

"It is nothing," he said, his voice steely and cold again. "A minor discomfort."

"Of course, my lord," Themis agreed, her expression tight. No one else dared to speak and risk bringing the Titans' wrath down on their heads.

"You!" Kronos pointed his scythe at a dracaena with green armour and a green crown. "Queen Sess, is it?"

"Yesssss, my lord."

"Is our little surprise ready to be unleashed?"

The dracaena queen bared her fangs. "Oh, yessss, my lord. Quite a lovely sssssurprissse."

"Excellent," Kronos smirked. "Tell my brother Hyperion to move our main force south into Central Park. The half-bloods will be in such disarray they will not be able to defend themselves. Go now, Alabaster. Work on improving your memory. We will talk again when we have taken Manhattan."

Alabaster bowed, and I jolted awake, the mention of the surprise and Hyperion making my heart jump into my throat.

"Ana, cool it," Luke, who'd been in the process of reaching out to wake me up, soothed.

"What's going on?" I demanded, swinging myself out of the bed and kicking away the sweaty blankets that my feet were tangled in.

"A force, led by Hyperion, is heading our way," he informed me grimly. Just then, I realized that he was wearing armour, his sword at his side.

"You're not fighting!" I exclaimed furiously, using anger to cover my panic. I couldn't lose Luke, I just couldn't. He kept me stable. I was genuinely afraid of what I would do without his help.

"I am, and you can't stop me," he answered me, completely serious and determined. "I saw the size of Hyperion's attack force. You need me, and you know it."

I gritted my teeth, but reluctantly gave in. My desires and concerns were last place right now. The world had to come first.

I told him about my dreams as we hurried to meet with the others, who were waiting for us at the Reservoir. The lights of the city were blinking on at twilight. I guess a lot of them were on automatic timers. Streetlamps glowed around the shore of the lake, making the water and trees look even spookier.

"They're coming," Thalia confirmed, pointing north with a silver arrow. "One of my scouts just reported they've crossed the Harlem River. There was no way to hold them back. The army . . ." She shrugged. "It's huge."

"We'll hold them at the park," I announced. "Grover, you ready?"

He nodded. "As ready as we'll ever be. If my nature spirits can stop them anywhere, this is the place."

"Yes, we will!" declared another voice. A very old, fat satyr pushed through the crowd, stumbling over his own spear. He was dressed in wood-bark armour that only covered half of his belly.

"Leneus?" I blinked.

"Don't act so surprised," he huffed. "I am a leader of the Council, and you did tell me to find Grover. Well, I found him, and I'm not going to let a mere outcast lead the satyrs without my help!"

Behind Leneus' back, Grover made gagging motions, but the old satyr grinned like he was the saviour of the day. "Never fear! We'll show those Titans!"

I didn't know whether to laugh or be angry, but I managed to keep a straight face. "Uh, right," I drawled. "Glad to have you. I'm sure you'll be, uh, invaluable. Well, anyway, Grover, you won't be alone. Malcolm and the Athena cabin will make their stand here. And Luke and I and . . . Thalia?"

She patted me on the shoulder. "Say no more. The Hunters are ready."

I shot her a grateful smile.

"We can help too," Clarisse offered, but I shook my head.

"No, we can't take the risk of leaving the rest of the city undefended," I insisted firmly. "Hyperion's force could be a distraction. You guys need to hold them off if they try and sneak in. Has everyone chosen a bridge or tunnel?"

The counsellors nodded grimly.

"Then let's do it," I forced a smile. "Good hunting, everybody!"

We heard the army before we saw it.

The noise was like a cannon barrage combined with a football stadium crowd—like every Patriots fan in New England was charging us with bazookas.

At the north end of the reservoir, the enemy vanguard broke through the woods—a warrior in golden armour leading a battalion of Laistrygonian giants with huge bronze axes. Hundreds of other monsters poured out behind them.

"Positions!" Malcolm yelled.

His cabinmates scrambled. The idea was to make the enemy army break around the reservoir. To get to us, they'd have to follow the trails, which meant they'd be marching in narrow columns on either side of the water.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The enemy divided and streamed toward us along the shore. When they were halfway across, our defences kicked in. The jogging trail erupted in Greek fire, incinerating many of the monsters instantly. Others flailed around, engulfed in green flames. Athenian campers threw grappling hooks around the largest giants and pulled them to the ground. I myself used my power to cause a series of minor earthquakes and geysers that forced the attackers into falling into more of our traps.

In the woods on the right, the Hunters sent a volley of silver arrows into the enemy line, destroying twenty or thirty dracaenae, but more marched behind them. A bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky and fried a Laistrygonian giant to ashes, and I knew Thalia must be doing her daughter of Zeus thing. Her powers weren't as varied as mine were, but she was still damn powerful, and skilled and creative with the ones she had.

Grover raised his pipes and played a quick tune. A roar went up from the woods on both sides as every tree, rock, and bush seemed to sprout a spirit. Dryads and satyrs raised their clubs and charged. The trees wrapped around the monsters, strangling them. Grass grew around the feet of the enemy archers. Stones flew up and hit dracaenae in the faces.

The enemy slogged forward. Giants smashed through the trees, and naiads faded as their life sources were destroyed. Hellhounds lunged at the timber wolves, knocking them aside. Enemy archers returned fire, and a Hunter fell from a high branch.

"Ana!" Luke grabbed my arm and pointed at the reservoir. Hyperion wasn't waiting for his forces to advance around the sides. He was charging towards us, running straight over the top of the lake.

A Greek firebomb exploded right on top of him, but he raised his palm and sucked the flames out of the air.

"I'll deal with him!" I called.

"Ariel, even you-" he began protesting, but was forced to break off to defend himself from a pair of hellhounds, while I darted towards Hyperion.

We'd set up at the reservoir for good reason. I concentrated on the water and felt its power surging through me.

I advanced toward Hyperion, running over the top of the water. I could feel the water making my energy and power levels surge, but I was determined not to lose myself in the madness of battle, as I had last time. The water helped with that, too, keeping my mind clear and focused.

Twenty feet away, Hyperion raised his sword. His eyes were just like I'd seen in my dream—as gold as Kronos' but brighter, like miniature suns. Just looking at them made my eyes sting and conjured coloured spots in my vision.

"The sea god's brat," he mused. "You're one of those who trapped Atlas beneath the sky again?"

"It wasn't hard," I shrugged casually with a cold smirk. "You Titans are about as bright as my hair."

Hyperion snarled. "You want bright?"

His body ignited in a column of light and heat. I looked away, but I was still blinded.

Instinctively I raised Anaklusmos—just in time. Hyperion's blade slammed against mine. The shock wave sent a ten-foot ring of water across the surface of the lake.

My eyes still burned. I had to shut off his light, to take away his advantage.

I concentrated on the tidal wave and forced it to reverse. Just before impact, I jumped upward on a jet of water.

"AHHHHH!" The waves smashed into Hyperion and he went under, his light extinguished.

I landed on the lake's surface just as Hyperion struggled to his feet. His golden armour was dripping wet. His eyes no longer blazed, but they still looked murderous.

"You will burn, Jackson!" he roared.

Our swords met again and the air charged with ozone.

The battle still raged around us. On the right flank, Luke was leading an assault with the Athenians. On the left flank, Grover and his nature spirits were regrouping, entangling the enemies with bushes and weeds.

"Enough games," Hyperion told me. "We fight on land."

I was about to tell him that there was no fucking way I was gonna fight him on _his_ turf instead of my own, when the Titan yelled. A wall of force slammed me through the air—just like the trick Kronos had pulled on the bridge. I sailed backward about three hundred yards and smashed into the ground. If it hadn't been for my new invulnerability, I would've broken every bone in my body.

I got to my feet, groaning. "I really, _really_, fucking hate it when you Titans do that."

Why couldn't they be a bit more considerate of my gender? I was totally in favour of gender equality and stuff, but if more immortals were chauvinistic assholes who hesitated to attack a girl, my life would be_ so_ much easier.

Hyperion closed on me with blinding speed.

I concentrated on the water, drawing strength from it.

Hyperion attacked. He was powerful and fast, but he couldn't seem to land a blow, though our blades clashed repeatedly. I wasn't sure how many times. The ground around his feet kept erupting in flames, but I kept dousing it just as quickly.

"Stop it!" the Titan roared. "Stop that wind!"

I wasn't sure what he meant. I was too busy fighting. Besides, only some idiot who was more concerned with 'honour' than survival would ever fight fair. I don't give a damn about having a 'bad reputation'. I fought to _win._

Hyperion stumbled like he was being pushed away. Water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. The wind picked up, and Hyperion staggered backward.

"Ana!" Grover called in amazement. "How are you _doing_ that?"

"That's so awesome, Ariel!" Luke added as he sliced the head off a dracenae. "Keep it up!"

What are they talking about? I wondered.

Then I looked down, and I realized I was standing in the middle of my own personal hurricane. Clouds of water vapor swirled around me, winds so powerful they buffeted Hyperion and flattened the grass in a twenty-yard radius. Enemy warriors threw javelins at me, but the storm knocked them aside.

"Nice," I muttered appreciatively. If there was anything good about being the first mortal daughter of Poseidon, it was the broad amount of ways I could use to fight my enemies. "But a little stronger!"

Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on Hyperion and blew him off his feet. I slashed him diagonally across the chest, drawing a flow of golden ichor.

"Ana!" Grover called again. "Bring him over here!"

I slashed and jabbed, letting my reflexes take over. With my strength increased by the reservoir's proximity, Hyperion could barely defend himself. His eyes kept trying to ignite, but the hurricane quenched his flames.

I couldn't keep up a storm like this forever, though. I could feel my powers weakening, even with the reservoir. With one last effort, I propelled Hyperion across the field, straight to where Grover was waiting.

"I will not be toyed with!" Hyperion bellowed.

He managed to get to his feet again, but Grover put his reed pipes to his lips and began to play. Leneus joined him. Around the grove, every satyr took up the song—an eerie melody, like a creek flowing over stones. The ground erupted at Hyperion's feet. Gnarled roots wrapped around his legs.

"What's this?" he protested. He tried to shake off the roots, but he was still weak. The roots thickened until he looked like he was wearing wooden boots.

"Stop this!" he shouted. I rolled my eyes in irritation. Again, why would we stop and let him kill us? Nobody is _that _much of an idiot. "Your woodland magic is no match for a Titan!"

But we got the last laugh, because the more he struggled, the faster the roots grew. They curled about his body, thickening and hardening into bark. His golden armour melted into the wood, becoming part of a large trunk.

The music continued. Hyperion's forces backed up in astonishment as their leader was absorbed. He stretched out his arms and they became branches, from which smaller branches shot out and grew leaves. The tree grew taller and thicker, until only the Titan's face was visible in the middle of the trunk.

"You cannot imprison me!" he bellowed. "I am Hyperion! I am—"

The bark closed over his face.

Grover took his pipes from his mouth. "You are a very nice maple tree."

Several of the other satyrs passed out from exhaustion, but they'd done their job well. The Titan lord was completely encased in an enormous maple. The trunk was at least twenty feet in diameter, with branches as tall as any in the park. The tree might've stood there for centuries.

The Titan's army started to retreat. A cheer went up from the Athena cabin, but our victory was short-lived.

Because just then Kronos unleashed his surprise.

"REEEEET!"

The squeal echoed through upper Manhattan. Demigods and monsters alike froze in terror.

Grover shot me a panicked look. "Why does that sound like . . . It can't be!"

I groaned and swore like a sailor. "Damn the Titans!" I spat. I wanted to hope that it wasn't what I feared, but I knew better. It was always the worst-case scenario. Our fears were confirmed a few minutes later.

"REEEEEET!" A huge pink creature soared over the reservoir—a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade nightmare blimp with wings.

"A sow!" Malcom cried. "Take cover!"

The demigods scattered as the winged lady pig swooped down. Her wings were pink like a flamingo's, which matched her skin beautifully, but it was hard to think of her as cute when her hooves slammed into the ground, barely missing Sophia. The pig stomped around and tore down half an acre of trees, belching a cloud of noxious gas. Then it took off again, circling around for another strike.

"I hate pigs!" I snarled. "Damn them. That's the Clazmonian Sow, isn't it?"

"Yup," Malcolm nodded.

"Let me guess," I huffed. "Hercules beat it." I don't like Heracles, and having to copy him always pisses me off.

"Nope," Susanna shook her head. "As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it."

"Well that's just perfect," I complained.

The Titan's army was recovering from its shock. I guess they realized the pig wasn't after them.

We only had seconds before they were ready to fight, and our forces were still in a panic. Every time the sow belched, Grover's nature spirits yelped and faded back into their trees.

"That pig has got to go." I grabbed a grappling hook from Adrian, another son of Athena. "I'll take care of it. You guys hold the rest of the enemy. Push them back!"

"But, Ana," Grover objected, "what if we can't?"

I saw how tired he was. The magic had really drained him. Luke didn't look much better and Malcolm had a bad shoulder wound. I didn't know how the Hunters were doing, but the right flank of the enemy army was now between them and us.

I didn't want to leave my friends in such bad shape, but that sow was the biggest threat. It would destroy everything: buildings, trees, sleeping mortals. It had to be stopped.

"Retreat if you need to," I ordered them. "Just slow them down. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before I could change my mind, I swung the grappling hook like a lasso. When the sow came down for its next pass, I threw with all my strength. The hook wrapped around the base of the pig's wing. It squealed in rage and veered off, yanking the rope and me into the sky.

BTW, if you're heading downtown from Central Park, my advice is to take the subway. Flying pigs are faster, but way more dangerous.

The sow soared past the Plaza Hotel, straight into the canyon of Fifth Avenue. I had intended to climb the rope and get on the pig's back, but I was too busy swinging around dodging streetlamps and the sides of buildings.

Another thing I learned: it's one thing to climb a rope during training. It's a completely different thing to climb a rope attached to a moving pig's wing while you're flying at a hundred miles an hour.

We zigzagged along several blocks and continued south on Park Avenue.

_Boss-lady! Hey, boss-lady! _Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blackjack speeding along next to us, darting back and forth to avoid the pig's wings.

"Watch out!" I warned him.

_Hop on! _Blackjack whinnied._ I can catch you . . . probably._

That wasn't very reassuring. Grand Central lay dead ahead. Above the main entrance stood the giant statue of Hermes, which I guess hadn't been activated because it was so high up. I was flying right toward him at the speed of demigod-smashing.

"Stay alert!" I told Blackjack. "I've got an idea."

_Oh, I hate your ideas._

I didn't blame him. I usually hated them too. Still, they (occasionally) worked out with minimal destruction.

I swung outward with all my might. Instead of smashing into the Hermes statue, I whipped around it, circling the rope under its arms. I thought this would tether the pig, but I'd underestimated the momentum of a thirty-ton sow in flight. Just as the pig wrenched the statue loose from its pedestal, I let go. Hermes went for a ride, taking my place as the pig's passenger, and I free-fell toward the street.

In that split second I thought about when I was a kid and my mom used to work at the Grand Central candy shop. I thought how bad it would be if I ended up as a grease spot on the pavement.

Then a shadow swooped under me, and thump—I was on Blackjack's back. It wasn't the most comfortable landing.

_Sorry, boss-lady,_ Blackjack murmured.

"No problem," I assured him, shoving away the pain in my nether regions. "Follow that pig!"

The porker had taken a right at East 42nd and was flying back toward Fifth Avenue. When it flew above the rooftops, I could see fires here and there around the city. It looked like my friends were having a rough time. Kronos was attacking on several fronts. But at the moment, I had my own problems and was in no shape to help anybody.

The Hermes statue was still on its leash. It kept bonking into buildings and spinning around. The pig swooped over an office building, and Hermes ploughed into a water tower on the roof, blasting water and wood everywhere.

Then I got another idea.

"Get closer," I told Blackjack.

He whinnied in protest.

"Just within shouting distance," I soothed him. "I need to talk to the statue."

_Now I'm sure you've lost it, boss-lady,_ Blackjack said, but my ever-loyal steed did what I asked. When I was close enough to see the statue's face clearly, I yelled, "Hello, Hermes! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin Activation!"

Immediately the statue moved its legs. It seemed confused to find that it was no longer on top of Grand Central Terminal. It was, instead, being given a sky-ride on the end of a rope by a large winged sow. It smashed through the side of a brick building, which I think made it a little mad. It shook its head and began to climb the rope.

I glanced down at the street. We were coming up on the main public library, with the big marble lions flanking the steps. Suddenly I had a weird thought: Could stone statues be automatons too? It seemed like a long shot, but . . .

"Faster!" I told Blackjack. "Get in front of the pig, Taunt him!"

_Um, boss-lady—_

"Trust me," I said. "I can do this . . . probably."

_Oh, sure. Mock the horse._

Blackjack burst through the air. He could fly pretty darned fast when he wanted to. He got in front of the pig, which now had a metal Hermes on its back.

Blackjack whinnied, '_You smell like ham!' _He kicked the pig in the snout with his back hooves and went into a steep dive. The pig screamed in rage and followed.

We barrelled straight for the front steps of the library. Blackjack slowed down just enough for me to hop off, then he kept flying toward the main doors.

I yelled out, "Lions! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin Activation!"

The lions stood up and looked at me. They probably thought I was teasing them. But just then: "REEEEEET!"

The massive pink pork monster landed with a thud, cracking the sidewalk. The lions stared at it, not believing their luck, and pounced. At the same time, a very beat-up Hermes statue leaped onto the pig's head and started banging it mercilessly with a caduceus. Those lions had some nasty claws.

I drew Riptide, but there wasn't much for me to do. The pig disintegrated before my eyes. I almost felt sorry for it. I hoped it got to meet the boar of its dreams down in Tartarus.

When the monster had completely turned to dust, the lions and the Hermes statue looked around in confusion.

"You can defend Manhattan now," I told them, but they didn't seem to hear. They went charging down Park Avenue, and I imagined they would keep looking for flying pigs until someone deactivated them.

_Hey, boss-lady,_ Blackjack interrupted. _Can we take a donut break?_

I wiped the sweat off my brow. "I wish, babe, but the fight's still going on."

In fact, I could hear it getting closer. My friends needed help. I jumped on Blackjack, and we flew north toward the sound of explosions.


	15. Mr D Loses At Pac-Man

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Mister D Loses At Pac-Mac**

Midtown was a war zone. We flew over little skirmishes everywhere. A giant was ripping up trees in Bryant Park while dryads pelted him with nuts. Outside the Waldorf Astoria, a bronze statue of Benjamin Franklin was whacking a hellhound with a rolled-up newspaper. A trio of Hephaestus campers fought a squad of dracaenae in the middle of Rockefeller Centre.

I wanted to stop and help all of them, but I could tell from the smoke and noise that the real action had moved farther south. Our defences were collapsing. The enemy was closing in on the Empire State Building. So, I reluctantly flew past them, heading for the sounds of battle.

We did a quick sweep of the surrounding area. The Hunters had set up a defensive line on 37th, just three blocks north of Olympus. To the east on Park Avenue, Jake and some other Hephaestus campers were leading an army of statues against the enemy. To the west, the Demeter cabin and Grover's nature spirits had turned Sixth Avenue into a jungle that was hampering a squadron of Kronos' demigods. The south was clear for now, but the flanks of the enemy army were swinging around. A few more minutes and we'd be totally surrounded.

"We have to land where they need us most," I muttered.

_That's everywhere, boss-lady._

I spotted a familiar banner with a caduceus in the southeast corner of the fight, 33rd at the Park Avenue tunnel. Luke and the Stolls were holding back a Hyperborean giant.

"There!" I told Blackjack. He plunged toward the battle.

I leaped off his back and landed on the giant's head. When the giant looked up, I slid off his face, Blackjack kicking his nose on the way down.

"RAWWWR!' The giant staggered backward, blue blood trickling from his nostrils.

I hit the pavement running. The Hyperborean breathed a cloud of white mist, and the temperature dropped. The spot where I'd landed was now coated with ice, and I was covered in frost like a bag of flour had burst all over me.

"Hey, Grouchy Smurf!" Luke yelled, jabbing one of its legs.

Blue Boy bellowed and turned toward him, exposing the unprotected back of his legs. I charged and stabbed him in the same place as Luke, a fatal hit.

"WAAAAH!" The Hyperborean buckled. I waited for him to turn into dust, but he froze instead. I mean he _literally_ turned to solid ice. From the point where I'd stabbed him, cracks appeared in his body. They got larger and wider until the giant crumbled in a mountain of blue shards.

"I had it." Luke declared immediately. "But thanks for speeding the fight up. The pig?"

"Now a pulled pork sandwich," I replied, rolling my eyes. I stepped forward, reaching out to check his shoulder, which he was flexing with a small grimace of pain.

"I'm fine, Ariel," he insisted, pushing my hands away. "Come on! We've got plenty of enemies left. Let's play 'Monster Mash'. Five points for the head, ten for the chest, four for the limbs."

I threw back my head and laughed. "You're buyin' me dinner from someplace fancy when I beat you," I grinned for what felt like the first time in years.

"Oh, please," he scoffed, a smirk on his lips. "When _I _win,_ you're_ baking a batch of those gorgeous blueberry muffins for me."

"If you guys are done flirting," Connor called from where he and his brother had engaged an Aeternae, a horse-life creature which killed with bony, saw-toothed horns that sprouted from their heads. _Really_ ugly. "We could use a hand over here!"

We rushed over immediately, leaving the temporary levity behind.

The next hour was a blur. I fought like I'd never fought before—wading into legions of dracaenae, taking out dozens of telkhines with every strike, destroying empousai and knocking out enemy demigods. But it seemed like no matter how many I defeated, three more took their place.

Luke and I raced from block to block, trying to shore up our defences. Too many of our friends lay wounded in the streets. Even more were missing.

As the night wore on and the moon got higher, we were backed up foot by foot until we were only a block from the Empire State Building in any direction. At one point Grover was next to me, bonking snake women over the head with his cudgel. Then he disappeared in the crowd, and it was Thalia at my side, driving the monsters back with the power of her magic shield. Mrs. O'Leary bounded out of nowhere, picked up a Laistrygonian giant in her mouth, and flung him into the air like a Frisbee. Luke used his magic shoes to fly up and engage several Stymphalian Birds in the air.

But it still wasn't enough.

"Hold your lines!" Katie shouted, somewhere off to my left.

The problem was there were too few of us to hold anything. The entrance to Olympus was twenty feet behind me. A ring of brave demigods, Hunters, and nature spirits guarded the doors. I slashed and hacked, destroying everything in my path, but even I was getting tired, and I couldn't be everywhere at once.

Behind the enemy troops, a few blocks to the east, a bright light began to shine. At first I thought it was the sunrise. Then I realized Kronos was riding toward us on a golden chariot. A dozen Laistrygonian giants bore torches before him. Two Hyperboreans carried his black-and-purple banners. The Titan lord looked fresh and rested, his powers at full strength. He was taking his time advancing, letting me wear myself down.

The others shifted. If not for our training and dedication, the sight would probably have caused some to flee. As it was, we simply fought on with grim resolve instead.

Luke landed next to me, clutching Halcyon, bleeding from several wounds and a look of borderline panic on his face. "We have to fall back to the doorway. Hold it at all costs!"

I knew that he was right. I was about to order a retreat when I heard the hunting horn.

It cut through the noise of the battle like a fire alarm. A chorus of horns answered from all around us, echoing off the buildings of Manhattan.

I glanced at Thalia, but she just frowned.

"Not the Hunters," she assured me. "We're all here."

"Then who?"

The horns got louder. I couldn't tell where they were coming from because of the echo, but it sounded like an entire army was approaching.

I was afraid it might be more reinforcements for the titans, but Kronos' forces looked as confused as we were. Giants lowered their clubs. Dracaenae hissed. Even Kronos' honour guard looked uneasy.

Then, to our left, a hundred monsters cried out at once. Kronos' entire northern flank surged forward. I figured we were all about to take a one-way trip to the Underworld, but they didn't attack. They ran straight past us and crashed into their southern allies.

A new blast of horns shattered the night. The air shimmered. In a blur of movement, an entire cavalry appeared like a spaceship dropping out of light speed in a sci-fy movie.

"Yeah, baby!" a voice wailed. "PARTYYY!"

A shower of arrows arced over our heads and slammed into the enemy, vaporizing hundreds of demons. But these weren't regular arrows. They made whizzy sounds as they flew, like WHEEEEEE! Some had pinwheels attached to them. Others had boxing gloves rather than points.

"Centaurs!" Clarisse yelled.

"It's Chiron!" Lou added, her voice reinvigorated. The campers all brightened, me included. Chiron had come to our aid, just as always.

The Party Pony army exploded into our midst in a riot of colours: tie-dyed shirts, rainbow Afro wigs, oversize sunglasses, and war-painted faces. Some had slogans scrawled across their flanks like HORSEZ PWN or KRONOS SUX.

Hundreds of them filled the entire block. My brain couldn't process everything I saw, but I knew if _I_ were the enemy, I'd be running.

"Ana!" Chiron shouted across the sea of wild centaurs. He was dressed in armour from the waist up, his bow in his hand, and he was grinning in satisfaction. "Sorry we're late!"

"DUDE!" Another centaur yelled. "Talk later. WASTE MONSTERS NOW!"

He locked and loaded a double-barrel paint gun and blasted an enemy hellhound bright pink. The paint must've been mixed with Celestial bronze dust or something, because as soon as it splattered the hellhound, the monster yelped and dissolved into a pink-and-black puddle.

"PARTY PONIES!" a centaur yelled. "SOUTH FLORIDA!"

Somewhere across the battlefield, a twangy voice yelled back, "HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER!"

"HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!" a third one shouted.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The entire Titan army turned and fled, pushed back by a flood of paintballs, arrows, swords, and NERF baseball bats. The centaurs trampled everything in their path.

I burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter, and I wasn't the only one. I even saw Travis snatching up an iPhone lying on the ground and apparently filming the chaotic retreat.

"Stop running, you fools!" Kronos yelled. "Stand and ACKK!"

That last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him. The lord of time disappeared under a giant blue butt. I could barely breathe from cackling in glee at the sight.

"After them!" Clarisse bellowed. "Charge!" Filled with a renewed surge of energy, we ran after the enemy, hacking down any within our reach.

We pushed them back for several blocks until Chiron yelled, "HOLD! On your promise, HOLD!"

It wasn't easy, but eventually the order got relayed up and down the ranks, and we started to pull back, letting the enemy flee.

"Chiron's smart," Malcolm commented from my left, wiping the sweat off his face. "If we pursue, we'll get too spread out. We need to regroup."

"But the enemy—"

"They're not defeated," he agreed. "But the dawn is coming. At least we've bought some time."

I didn't like pulling back, but I knew that Malcolm and Chiron were right. Besides, what if my eagerness to pursue them wasn't really me, but the Curse? No way was I giving anybody the satisfaction of making me say I was wrong to go swimming in the Styx. I watched as the last of the telkhines scuttled toward the East River. Then I turned and headed back toward the Empire State Building.

We set up a two-block perimeter, with a command tent at the Empire State Building. There, Chiron informed us that the Party Ponies had sent chapters from almost every state in the Union: forty from California, two from Rhode Island, thirty from Illinois . . . Roughly five hundred centaurs in total had answered his call, but even with that many, we couldn't defend more than a few blocks.

"Dude," said a centaur named Larry. His T-shirt identified him as BIG CHIEF UBER GUY, NEW MEXICO CHAPTER. "That was more fun than our last convention in Vegas!"

"Yeah," Owen from South Dakota agreed. He wore a black leather jacket and an old WWII army helmet. "We totally wasted them!"

Chiron patted Owen on the back. "You did well, my friends, but don't get careless. Kronos should never be underestimated. Now why don't you visit the diner on West 33rd and get some breakfast? I hear the Delaware chapter found a stash of root beer."

"Root beer!" They almost trampled each other as they galloped off.

Chiron smiled. I flung my arms around in the tightest hug I could manage, and Mrs. O'Leary licked his face.

"Ack," he grumbled. "Enough of that, dog. Yes, I'm glad to see you too."

"Chiron, thank you," I told him, putting all my relief and gratefulness into my voice. "We were about to collapse. Talk about saving the day."

"Brilliant entrance," Luke added with a grin. "Fab timing, seriously. Movie-worthy."

Chiron shrugged, giving Luke a fondly reproving look. "I'm sorry it took so long. Centaurs travel fast, as you know. We can bend distance as we ride. Even so, getting all the centaurs together was no easy task. The Party Ponies are not exactly organized."

"How'd you get through the magic defences around the city?" Lou asked.

"They slowed us down a bit," Chiron admitted, "but I think they're intended mostly to keep mortals out. Kronos doesn't want puny humans getting in the way of his great victory."

"So maybe other reinforcements can get through," Katie suggested hopefully.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Perhaps, though time is short. As soon as Kronos regroups, he will attack again. Without the element of surprise on our side . . ."

I understood what he meant. Kronos wasn't beaten. Not by a long shot. I half hoped Kronos had been squashed under that Hyperborean giant's butt, but I knew better. He'd be back, tonight at the latest.

"Anyway, what other reinforcements?" Will pointed out glumly. "Who else is there?"

"And Typhon?" I asked quickly, before Clarisse could act on her obvious desire to punch him for darkening the mood.

Chiron's face darkened. "The gods are tiring. Dionysus was incapacitated yesterday. Typhon smashed his chariot, and the wine god went down somewhere in the Appalachians. No one has seen him since. Hephaestus is out of action as well. He was thrown from the battle so hard he created a new lake in West Virginia. He will heal, but not soon enough to help. The others still fight. They've managed to slow Typhon's approach. But the monster cannot be stopped. He will arrive in New York by this time tomorrow. Once he and Kronos combine forces—"

"Then what chance do we have?" I asked in despair. "We can't hold out another day."

"We'll have to," Thalia stated stoically. "I'll see about setting some new traps around the perimeter."

She looked exhausted. Her jacket was smeared in grime and monster dust, but she managed to get to her feet and stagger off.

"I will help her," Chiron decided. "I should make sure my brethren don't go too overboard with the root beer."

I thought "too overboard" pretty much summed up the Party Ponies, but Chiron cantered off, followed by the others who dispersed to check on their siblings and get healing, leaving Luke and I alone.

He cleaned the monster slime off his sword.

"I don't think I can do this," I admitted.

Luke looked up and locked eyes with me. "Ana," he said, putting aside Halcyon and cupping my face. "If anybody wanted to bet on this war, I'd put my money on you every time. You're _you_. I know you. The Fates chose you for this, 'cause they knew you'd be able to do it."

My lip trembled, then instincts took over and I pulled him down into a kiss more desperate than the one we'd shared on top of Mt. St. Helens a year ago. The world seemed to hold still as we did so, until finally a need for air made us separate, where Luke rested his forehead against mine.

"I love you," I whispered to him.

"I know," he smirked, before the look softened into a tender one. "I love you too," he murmured.

I looked away, my heart stinging. I knew it already, of course. But it hurt to think that I'd probably be dead within the next few days, and maybe Luke too. I wanted a life with him, and I'd never get it. As childish as it was, I couldn't help think how unfair it all was.

Across the street, the Apollo campers had set up a field hospital to tend the wounded—dozens of campers and almost as many Hunters. I was watching the medics work, and thinking about our slim chances for holding Mount Olympus. . . .

And then suddenly: I wasn't there anymore.

I was standing in a long dingy bar with black walls, neon signs, and a bunch of partying adults. A banner across the bar read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOBBY EARL. Country music played on the speakers. Big guys in jeans and work shirts crowded the bar. Waitresses carried trays of drinks and shouted at each other. If Chiron ever found out I was in a place like this, I'd be on KP for the next millennium as punishment.

I was stuck in the very back of the room, next to the bathrooms (which didn't smell so great) and a couple of antique arcade games.

"Oh good, you're here," drawled the man at the Pac-Man machine. "I'll have a Diet Coke."

He was a pudgy guy in a leopard-skin Hawaiian shirt, purple shorts, red running shoes, and black socks, which didn't exactly make him blend in with the crowd. His nose was bright red. A bandage was wrapped around his curly black hair like he was recovering from a concussion.

I blinked. "Mr. D?"

He sighed, not taking his eyes from the game. "Really, Abby Johnson, how long will it take for you to recognize me on sight?"

"About as long as it'll take for you to figure out my name," I muttered. "Where are we?"

"Why, Bobby Earl's birthday party," Dionysus said. "Somewhere in lovely rural America."

"I thought Typhon swatted you out of the sky. They said you crash-landed."

"Your concern is touching. I did crash-land. Very painfully. In fact, part of me is still buried under a hundred feet of rubble in an abandoned coal mine. It will be several more hours before I have enough strength to mend. But in the meantime, part of my consciousness is here."

"At a bar, playing Pac-Man."

"Party time," Dionysus said. "Surely you've heard of it. Wherever there is a party, my presence is invoked. Because of this, I can exist in many different places at once. The only problem was finding a party. I don't know if you're aware how serious things are outside your safe little bubble of New York—

"Safe little bubble?"

"—but believe me, the mortals out here in the heartland are panicking. Typhon has terrified them. Very few are throwing parties. Apparently Bobby Earl and his friends, bless them, are a little slow. They haven't yet figured out that the world is ending."

"So . . . I'm not really here?"

"No. In a moment I'll send you back to your normal insignificant life, and it will be as if nothing had happened."

"And why did you bring me here?"

Dionysus snorted. "Oh, I didn't want you particularly. Any of you silly heroes would do. That Liam boy—"

"Luke."

"The point is," he went on, "I pulled you into party time to deliver a warning. We are in danger."

"What?" I gave a mock gasp, clasping my heart in fake shock. "I had _no idea_. Thanks for warning me."

He glared at me and momentarily forgot his game. Pac-Man got eaten by the red ghost dude.

"Erre es korakas, Blinky!" Dionysus cursed. "I will have your soul!"

"You know that he's a video game character, right?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"That's no excuse! And you're ruining my game, Jorgenson!"

"Jackson."

"Whichever! Now listen, the situation is graver than you imagine. If Olympus falls, not only will the gods fade, but everything that is connected to our legacy will also begin to unravel. The very fabric of your puny little civilization—"

The game played a song and Mr. D progressed to level 254.

"Ha!" he shouted. "Take that, you pixelated fiends!"

"Fabric of civilization," I prompted tiredly.

"Yes, yes. Your entire society will dissolve. Perhaps not right away, but mark my words, the chaos of the Titans will mean the end of Western civilization. Art, law, wine tastings, music, video games, silk shirts, black velvet paintings—all the things that make life worth living will disappear!"

"So why aren't the gods rushing back to help us?" I huffed, crossing my arms. "We should combine forces at Olympus. Forget Typhon."

He snapped his fingers impatiently. "You forgot my Diet Coke."

"Gods, you're_ so _annoying." I got the attention of a waitress and ordered the stupid soda. I put it on Bobby Earl's tab.

Mr. D took a good long drink. His eyes never left the video game. "The truth is, Ava—"

"Ana."

"—the other gods would never admit this, but we actually need you mortals to rescue Olympus. You see, we are manifestations of your culture. If you don't care enough to save Olympus yourselves—"

"Like Pan," I half-stated, "depending on the satyrs to save the Wild."

"Yes, quite. I will deny I ever said this, of course, but the gods need heroes. They always have. Otherwise we would not keep you annoying little brats around."

"I feel so wanted. Thanks."

"Use the training I have given you at camp."

"What training did _you_ ever give me?"

"You know. All those hero techniques and . . . No!" Mr. D slapped the game console. "Na pari i eychi! The last level!"

He looked at me, and purple fire flickered in his eyes. "You must save Olympus, Alice! Leave Typhon to the Olympians and save our seats of power. It must be done!"

"Great. Nice little chat. Now, if you don't mind, my friends will be wondering—"

"There is more," Mr. D warned. "Kronos has not yet attained full power. The body of the mortal was only a temporary measure."

"We kind of guessed that."

"And did you also guess that within a day at most, Kronos will burn away that mortal body and take on the true form of a Titan king?"

"And that would mean . . ."

Dionysus inserted another quarter. "You know about the true forms of the gods."

"I'm not an idiot. Everybody knows that you can't look at a god's true form without burning up."

"Kronos would be ten times more powerful. His very presence would incinerate you. And once he achieves this, he will empower the other Titans. They are weak now, compared to what they will soon become, unless you can stop them. The world will fall, the gods will die, and I will never achieve a perfect score on this stupid machine."

Maybe I should've been terrified, but honestly, I was already about as scared as I could get. Mostly his words just irritated me. As if I didn't have enough shit to deal with already. I really wanted to kick Kronos where it hurts. Asshole needs to go back to the Pit he crawled out of.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

"One last thing. My son Pollux. Is he alive?"

I blinked. "Yeah, last I saw him."

"I would very much appreciate it if you could keep him that way. I lost his brother Castor last year—"

"I remember." I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that Dionysus could be a caring father. I wondered how many other Olympians were thinking about their demigod children right now, if any. It was a strange, world-altering idea. I wasn't sure what to do with it. "I'll do my best."

"Your best," Dionysus muttered. "Well, isn't that reassuring. Go now. You have some nasty surprises to deal with, and I must defeat Blinky!"

"Nasty surprises?"

He waved his hand, and the bar disappeared.

I was back on Fifth Avenue. Luke hadn't moved. He didn't give any sign that I'd been gone or anything.

He saw my expression and frowned. "What?"

I pulled away, shrugging. "We have-" I began to say, only to freeze and stare in horror at the black-and-white Greek jar about three feet tall on the pavement across from us.

"No way," I muttered, dashing over with Luke beside me. We crouched next to it, neither of us daring to touch the cursed thing.

"How the fuck did that get here?" Luke demanded, wide-eyed. "I thought you left that at the Plaza."

"Locked in a vault," I agreed.

Chiron saw the jar and his eyes widened. "That isn't— "

"Pandora's pithos." I told him about my meeting with Prometheus.

"Then the pithos is yours," Chiron announced grimly. "It will follow you and tempt you to open it, no matter where you leave it. It will appear when you are weakest."

_Like now,_ I thought. _Thinking everything I'm losing by choosing to die for Olympus instead of living under the Titans._

I imagined Prometheus smiling, so anxious to help out us poor mortals. _Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient._

Anger surged through me. I grabbed the damn thing and clutched it to my chest, scowling deeply. "We'll take that stupid jar to Olympus."

Chiron nodded. "A good plan. But, Ana . . ."

Whatever he was going to say, I never found out A mechanical drumbeat grew loud in the distance—the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter.

On a normal Monday morning in New York, this would've been no big deal, but after two days of silence, a mortal helicopter was the oddest thing I'd ever heard. A few blocks east, the monster army shouted and jeered as the helicopter came into view. It was a civilian model painted dark red, with a bright green "DE" logo on the side. The words under the logo were too small to read, but I knew what they said: DARE ENTERPRISES.

I went white in a mixture of fear and fury. "What is that idiot thinking?" I snapped. "Has she got any sense at all?"

"How did she get through the barrier?" Luke added, staring up at it.

"Who?" Chiron looked confused. "What mortal would be insane enough—"

Suddenly the helicopter pitched forward.

"The Morpheus enchantment!" Chiron exclaimed. "The foolish mortal pilot is asleep."

I watched in horror as the helicopter careened sideways, falling toward a row of office buildings. Even if it didn't crash, the gods of the air would probably swat it out of the sky for coming near the Empire State Building.

I was too paralyzed to move, but Luke wasn't. "Maia!" he called, his shoe wings appearing. Then he whistled and Guido swooped down.

_You rang for a handsome horse?_ he asked.

"Thanks, hun," I patted him even as I swung myself onto his back. "Go for the helicopter!"


	16. Death at the Doors of Olympus

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. I finish holidays tomorrow, so updates won't be as frequent. That being said, I've only a few chapters left to go, and I intend to finish this series, come hell or high water! Enjoy, and reviews are always welcome (if they're not insulting, of course.)**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Death At the Doors of Olympus**

Here's my definition of _not_ having fun. Flying a pegasus toward an out-of-control helicopter. If Guido had been any less of a fancy flier, we would've been made into Swiss cheese. _Sliced_ Swiss cheese at that.

I could hear Rachel screaming inside. For some strange reason, she hadn't fallen asleep, but I could see the pilot slumped over the controls, pitching back and forth as the helicopter wobbled toward the side of an office building.

"Ideas?" I asked Luke.

"You're going to have to take Guido and get out," he replied.

"What are you going to do?"

In response, he snapped out a, "Hyah!" And, triggered by the familiar order, Guido went into a nosedive. I swore and gripped his mane as hard as I could. I had no desire to discover if I could survive being flattened to a pancake, thanks very much.

"Duck!" Luke yelled.

We passed so close to the rotors I felt the force of the blades ripping at my hair. We zipped along the side of the helicopter, and Luke grabbed the door.

That's when things went wrong.

Guido's wing slammed against the helicopter. He plummeted straight down with me on his back, leaving Luke dangling from the side of the aircraft, his tiny shoe wings batting frantically to stay aloft. I was so terrified for him that I could barely think, but as Guido spiralled I caught a glimpse of Rachel pulling Luke inside the copter.

"Hang in there!" I yelled at Guido.

_My wing, _he moaned. _It's busted._

"You can do it!" I crooned to him. "Just relax the wing. Extend it and glide."

We fell like a rock—straight toward the pavement three hundred feet below. At the last moment Guido extended his wings. I saw the faces of centaurs gaping up at us. Then we pulled out of our dive, sailed fifty feet, and tumbled onto the pavement—pegasus over demigod.

_Ow! _Guido moaned. _My legs. My head. My wings._

Chiron galloped over with his medical pouch and began working on the pegasus.

I clambered to my feet, groaning. I may have been immune to injuries, but I _definitely_ still felt pain. When I looked up, my heart crawled into my throat. The helicopter was only a few seconds away from slamming into the side of the building.

Then miraculously the helicopter righted itself. It spun in a circle and hovered. Very slowly, it began to descend.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the helicopter thudded to a landing in the middle of Fifth Avenue. I looked through the windshield and couldn't believe what I was seeing. Luke was at the controls.

I ran forward as the rotors spun to a stop. Rachel opened the side door and dragged out the pilot.

She was still dressed like she was on vacation, in beach shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. Her hair was tangled and her face was green from the helicopter ride.

Luke climbed out last.

"Since when do you know how to fly a helicopter?" I demanded, hugging him quickly.

He shrugged, exhaustion creeping in now that his adrenaline was crashing again. "Since about ten minutes ago," he replied dryly. "Thank the gods for video games."

I wacked him over the head. "One of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed pulling some stupid stunt, and I'm gonna let it happen," I threatened. He smirked back.

"No way would you let me die," he asserted confidently. "Your life'd be too boring without me."

I scoffed at that, then finally turned to Rachel. "What the fuck were you thinking, Rachel?" I hissed furiously. "This is no place for mortals right now! New York is under attack!"

Rachel plopped down on the curb and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to . . . I always mess things up."

I softened slightly at her misery, elbowing Luke when I noticed he was about to agree with her. "Go and get some rest, Luke," I ordered him. I shoved him when he hesitated. Luke sighed then turned to stalk away, scowling at the ground.

I turned back to Rachel, reaching up to redo my messy braid as best I could given the knots in it. "It's okay," I told her, though my words sounded hollow. "So what's the message you wanted to deliver?"

She frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"A dream."

Rachel didn't look surprised. She tugged at her beach shorts. They were covered in drawings, which wasn't unusual for her, but these symbols I recognized: Greek letters, pictures from camp beads, sketches of monsters and faces of gods. I didn't understand how Rachel could have known about some of that. She'd never been to Olympus or Camp Half-Blood. Mortals weren't allowed.

"I've been seeing things too," she muttered. "I mean, not just through the Mist. This is different. I've been drawing pictures, writing lines—"

"In Ancient Greek," I completed. "Do you know what they say?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping . . . well, I was hoping you could help me figure out what's happening to me."

She looked at me pleadingly. Her face was sunburned from the beach. Her nose was peeling. I couldn't get over the shock that she was here in person. She'd forced her family to cut short their vacation, agreed to go to a horrible school, and flown a helicopter into a monster battle just to see me. In her own way, she was as brave as any demigod.

I had always disliked the belief that the words 'demigod' and 'hero' were synonymous. Mortals could be just as brave as half-bloods, and this war was proof that having godly blood didn't make you perfect. Last summer, Rachel had nailed Kronos himself in the eye with a _hairbrush_, of all things. Her bravery had saved our lives that day.

But what was happening to her with these visions really freaked me out. Maybe it was something that happened to all mortals who could see through the Mist. But I had never heard about anything like that.

"Rachel," I said, biting my lip, "I wish I knew. Maybe we should ask Chiron—"

She flinched like she'd gotten an electric shock. "Ana, something is about to happen. Someone is about to die."

"What do you mean? Who's going to die?"

"I don't know." She looked around nervously. "Don't you feel it?"

"Is that the message you wanted to tell me?"

"No." She hesitated. "I'm sorry. I'm not making sense, but that thought just came to me. The message I wrote on the beach was different. It had your name in it."

"Anaea," I remembered. "In Ancient Greek."

Rachel nodded. "I don't know its meaning. But I know it's important. You have to hear it. It said, Anaea, you are not the hero."

I stared at her like she'd just slapped me. "You came thousands of miles to tell me I'm not the hero?"

"It's important," she insisted. "It will affect what you do."

"Not the hero of the prophecy?" I asked. "Not the hero who defeats Kronos? What do you mean?"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Anaea. That's all I know. I had to tell you because—"

"Well!" Chiron cantered over. "This must be Miss Dare."

I wanted to yell at him to go away, but of course I couldn't. I tried to get my emotions under control. I felt like I had another personal hurricane swirling around me, only I wasn't controlling this one. "Chiron, Rachel Dare," I said. "Rachel, this is my teacher Chiron."

"Hello," Rachel greeted him glumly. She didn't look at all surprised that Chiron was a centaur.

"You are not asleep, Miss Dare," he noticed. "And yet you are mortal?"

"I'm mortal," she agreed, like it was a depressing thought, instead of my greatest envy. Everything is so much _simpler_ for mortals. "The pilot fell asleep as soon as we passed the river. I don't know why I didn't. I just knew I had to be here, to warn Ana."

"Warn Ana?"

"She's been seeing things," I explained. "Writing lines and making drawings."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Tell me."

She told him the same things she'd told me.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Miss Dare . . . perhaps we should talk."

"Chiron," I blurted.

I remembered how Luke had told me about how his mother had been able to see through the Mist, and it had driven her completely insane, and how Beryl Grace, Thalia's mother, had become an alcoholic to cope with her knowledge of the mythological world. I recalled the nightmares my mother had suffered from and she had tried to hide from me.

"You . . . you'll help Rachel, right? I mean, you'll warn her that she's got to be careful with this stuff. Not go too far."

His tail flicked like it does when he's anxious. "Yes, Ana. I will do my best to understand what is happening and advise Miss Dare, but this may take some time.

Meanwhile, you should rest. The enemy seems to be staying put for now. We've set up bunks in the Empire State Building. Get some rest."

"Rest," I muttered. "What is this rest you speak of? I've never heard of it."

He gave me a gentle smile, and I reluctantly submitted. I was exhausted, and I'd need energy for the next battle.

I turned and trudged toward the Empire State Building. When I glanced back, Rachel and Chiron were walking together in earnest conversation, like they were discussing funeral arrangements.

Inside the lobby, I found an empty bunk and collapsed, sure that I would never be able to sleep. A second later, my eyes closed and I was lost to the waking world.

In my dreams, I was back in Hades' garden. The lord of the dead paced up and down, holding his ears while Nico followed him, waving his arms.

"You _have_ to!" Nico insisted.

Demeter and Persephone sat behind them at the breakfast table. Both of the goddesses looked bored. Demeter poured shredded wheat into four huge bowls. Persephone was magically changing the flower arrangement on the table, turning the blossoms from red to yellow to polka-dotted.

"I don't _have_ to do anything!" Hades' eyes blazed. "I'm a god!"

"Father," Nico begged, "if Olympus falls, your own palace's safety doesn't matter. You'll fade too."

"I am not an Olympian!" he growled. "My family has made that quite clear."

"You are,'' Nico stated. "Whether you like it or not."

"You saw what they did to your mother," Hades snapped back. "Zeus killed her. And you would have me help them? They deserve what they get!"

Persephone sighed. She walked her fingers across the table, absently turning the silverware into roses. "Could we please not talk about _that woman_?"

"You know what would help this boy?" Demeter mused. "Farming."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Mother—"

"Six months behind a plough. Excellent character building."

Nico stepped in front of his father, forcing Hades to face him. "My mother understood about family. That's why she didn't want to leave us. You can't just abandon your family because they did something horrible. You've done horrible things to them too."

"Maria died!" Hades reminded him.

"You can't just cut yourself off from the other gods!"

"I've done very well at it for thousands of years."

"And has that made you feel any better?" Nico demanded. "Has that curse on the Oracle helped you at all? Holding grudges is a fatal flaw. Bianca warned me about that, and she was right."

"For demigods! I am immortal, all-powerful! I would not help the other gods if they begged me, if Ana Jackson herself pleaded—"

"You're just as much of an outcast as I am!" Nico yelled. "Stop being angry about it and do something helpful for once. That's the only way they'll respect you!"

Hades' palm filled with black fire and my heart jumped into my throat out of fear for Nico.

"Go ahead," Nico said, lifting his chin defiantly. "Blast me. That's just what the other gods would expect from you. Prove them right."

"Yes, please," Demeter complained. "Shut him up."

Persephone sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I would rather fight in the war than eat another bowl of cereal. This is boring."

Hades roared in anger. His fireball hit a silver tree right next to Nico, melting it into a pool of liquid metal.

And my dream changed.

I was standing outside the United Nations, about a mile northeast of the Empire State Building. The Titan army had set up camp all around the UN complex. The flagpoles were hung with horrible trophies—helmets and armour pieces from defeated campers. All along First Avenue, giants sharpened their axes. Telkhines repaired armour at makeshift forges.

Kronos himself paced at the top of the plaza, swinging his scythe so his dracaenae bodyguards stayed way back. Torrington and Prometheus stood nearby, out of slicing range, and Themis was nowhere to be seen. Torrington was fidgeting with his shield straps, but Prometheus looked as calm and collected as ever in his tuxedo.

"I hate this place," Kronos growled. _"United Nations_. As if mankind could ever unite. Remind me to tear down this building after we destroy Olympus."

"Yes, lord." Prometheus smiled as if his master's anger amused him. "Shall we tear down the stables in Central Park too? I know how much horses can annoy you."

"Don't mock me, Prometheus! Those cursed centaurs will be sorry they interfered. I will feed them to the hellhounds, starting with that son of mine—that weakling Chiron."

Prometheus shrugged. "That weakling destroyed an entire legion of telkhines with his arrows."

Kronos swung his scythe and cut a flagpole in half. The national colours of Brazil toppled into the army, squashing a dracaena.

"We will destroy them!" Kronos roared. "It is time to unleash the drakon. Torrington, you will do this."

"Y-yes, lord. At sunset?"

"No," Kronos said. "Immediately. The defenders of Olympus are badly wounded. They will not expect a quick attack. Now go. Do my bidding. I want Olympus in ruins by the time Typhon reaches New York. We will break the gods utterly!"

"But, my lord," Torrington protested. "Your regeneration."

Kronos pointed at Alabaster, and the demigod froze.

"Does it seem," Kronos hissed, "that I need to regenerate?"

Torrington didn't respond. Kind of hard to do anything when you're immobilized in time.

Kronos snapped his fingers and Torrington collapsed.

"Soon," the Titan growled, "this form will be unnecessary. I will not rest with victory so close. Now, go!"

Alabaster scrambled away.

"This is dangerous, my lord," Prometheus warned. "Do not be hasty."

"Hasty? After festering for three thousand years in the depths of Tartarus, you call me hasty? I will slice Ana Jackson into a thousand pieces."

Like Tartarus would he defeat me. I'd commit suicide before I gave him the satisfaction of beating me.

"Thrice you've fought her," Prometheus pointed out. "And yet you've always said it is beneath the dignity of a Titan to fight a mere mortal. I wonder if your mortal host is influencing you, weakening your judgment."

Kronos turned his golden eyes on the other Titan. "You call me weak?"

"No, my lord. I only meant—"

"Are your loyalties divided?" Kronos asked. "Perhaps you miss your old friends, the gods. Would you like to join them?"

Prometheus paled. "I misspoke, my lord. Your orders will be carried out." He turned to the armies and shouted, "PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"

The troops began to stir, and Themis sashayed out of the building with her cruel eyes glinting in malicious glee.

From somewhere behind the UN compound, an angry roar shook the city—the sound of a drakon waking. The noise was so horrible it woke me, and I realized I could still hear it from a mile away.

Grover stood next to me, looking nervous. "What was that?"

"They're coming," I told him. "And we're in trouble."

The Hephaestus cabin was out of Greek fire. The Apollo cabin and the Hunters were scrounging for arrows. They had resorted to picking up used arrows and hastily repairing the heads. Most of us had already ingested so much ambrosia and nectar we didn't dare take any more. Will was handing out steroids and caffeine tablets to people to get their energy up.

We had twenty-nine campers, fifteen Hunters, and half a dozen satyrs left in fighting shape. The rest had taken refuge on Olympus. The Party Ponies tried to form ranks, but they staggered and giggled and they all smelled like root beer. The Texans were head-butting the Coloradoans. The Missouri branch was arguing with Illinois. The chances were pretty good the whole army would end up fighting each other rather than the enemy.

Chiron trotted up with Rachel on his back. I was surprised, because Chiron rarely gave anyone a ride, and _never_ a mortal.

"Your friend here has some useful insights, Ana," he informed me.

Rachel blushed. "Just some things I saw in my head."

"A drakon," Chiron said. "A Lydian drakon, to be exact. The oldest and most dangerous kind."

I stared at her. "How did you know that?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel admitted. "But this drakon has a particular fate. It will be killed by a child of Ares."

Luke crossed his arms. "How can you possibly know something like that?"

"I just saw it. I can't explain."

"Alright, well we can't risk you being wrong," I flipped my braid over my shoulder and scanned the room. "Clarisse! Gather as many of your siblings as can stand. We'll leave the drakon to you guys, the rest of us will hold off the others. Rachel, get inside and _stay_ there."

"I want to stay and help."

"You're not trained in fighting, RED," Luke replied tightly. "You'll just get in the way."

Just then, a shadow blotted out the sun. Across the street, the drakon slithered down the side of a skyscraper. It roared, and a thousand windows shattered.

"On second thought," Rachel said in a small voice, "I'll be inside."

Let me clarify something quickly: there are dra_g_ons, and then there are dra_k_ons.

Drakons are several millennia older than dragons, and _much_ larger. They look like giant serpents. Most don't have wings. Most don't breathe fire (though some do).

All are poisonous. All are immensely strong, with scales harder than titanium. Their eyes can paralyze you; not the turn-you-to-stone Medusa-type paralysis, but the oh-my-gods-that-big-snake-is-going-to-eat-me type of paralysis, which is just as bad and more humiliating.

We have drakon-fighting classes at camp, but there is no way to prepare yourself for a two-hundred-foot-long serpent as thick as a school bus slithering down the side of a building, its yellow eyes like searchlights and its mouth full of razor-sharp teeth big enough to chew elephants.

It almost made me long for the flying pig.

Meanwhile, the enemy army advanced down Fifth Avenue. We'd done our best to push cars out of the way to keep the mortals safe, but that just made it easier for our enemies to approach. The Party Ponies swished their tails nervously. Chiron galloped up and down their ranks, shouting encouragement to stand tough and think about victory and root beer, but I figured that at any second they would panic and run. I wouldn't even blame them for it.

"Ares campers form up!" Clarisse bellowed, from her position in the flying chariot. "We will KILL THE DRAKON!"

"KILL THE DRAKON!" her five remaining siblings yelled back, adrenaline replacing their fear. I worried they'd all lost their minds to their own fatal flaw: bloodlust. Still, if Rachel was right, we had no other chance.

"Defenders, form up!" I cried. "Block the doors to Olympus! Keep the doors defended at all costs, our injured siblings are up there!"

The reminder that wounded friends and family were recuperating on Olympus galvanized my weary comrades. The fate of Western civilization was a noble goal, but the fate of your loved ones was a _personal_ one. I'd found that it easier to fight for my friends, my family's lives, then it was to fight for the gods. We formed up in front of the doors, barely making up two lines. The remaining archers climbed to the best vantage points and readied their archers. The centaurs had also formed up, if awkwardly.

Silena was beside me, a fervent gleam in her eye as she stared down at the enemy. I would've been pleased at her finally showing anything other than lifeless despair if not for the fear that she had simply decided to go out fighting and gaining revenge for Beckendorf and her fallen siblings.

Luke was on my other side, and I quickly pecked his lips. He smirked at me. "What gets me more of _that_?"

"If we both survive this war, Casanova, you'll get a hellovalot more than some kisses from me," I informed him, earning a mischievous, eager grin.

"Looking forward to it, Ariel."

I whistled, calling Mrs. O'Leary to my side. "Girl, you see the monsters?" I asked her, pointing at the advancing enemy. "Kill the monsters!"

She growled loudly and leapt forward, triggering the start of the battle.

Clarisse and her siblings ran at the drakon, charging in spite of the terror in their expressions. From the north, the enemy army crashed into the Party Ponies, and our lines broke. The drakon, clinging to the side of a building, lashed out, swallowing three Californian centaurs in one gulp before anybody could even get close.

Mrs. O'Leary launched herself through the air—a deadly black shadow with teeth and claws. Normally, a pouncing hellhound is a terrifying sight, but next to the drakon, Mrs. O'Leary looked like a child's night-night doll.

Her claws raked harmlessly off the drakon's scales. She bit the monster's throat but couldn't make a dent. Her weight, however, was enough to knock the drakon off the side of the building. It flailed awkwardly and crashed to the sidewalk, hellhound and serpent twisting and thrashing. The drakon tried to bite Mrs. O'Leary, but she was too close to the serpent's mouth. Poison spewed everywhere, melting centaurs into dust along with quite a few monsters, but Mrs. O'Leary weaved around the serpent's head, scratching and biting.

The Ares campers, six alive and fit for battle remaining of the thirty there had been at the beginning of the siege, hacked at the drakon, but their weapons seemed useless. I wanted to help, but I had my own problems.

Our ranks had broken quickly, and it seemed that I was alone in a sea of monsters. Each one I cut down had three comrades to take its place. Several times I found myself beside another defender for a few moments, but never for long before the battle separated us again.

I rolled and flipped and slashed, and then heard a familiar, awful cry. The sound someone lets out when they take a fatal blow. It was Malcolm.

I cut my way to him, meeting his closest sister, Susanna, and Luke. Silena was guarding Malcolm, who was bleeding from a bad wound to his stomach.

"It's my fault!" Silena wept as I dropped to my knees beside Malcolm, who was groaning in pain. Luke took over defending us, while I wrestled with my pocket to find and get out a piece of ambrosia.

"It's my fault," Silena repeated, distraught. "He jumped in front of me. Oh, gods, Malcolm I'm sorry."

Susanna was grim-faced, pressing down hard on Malcolm's wound.

"Not...your fault," Malcolm gasped out. His lips were flecked with blood, and when I tried to feed him the healing food of the gods, he turned his head away. "No," he groaned. "Don'...Ana, 'm sorry. Never meant this...to get...so bad."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, still trying to give him the ambrosia. "Eat it, damn you!"

Malcolm opened his palm, and I gasped in shock along with the girls. Susanna's grip on the wound slackened with shock, while Silena recoiled, furious betrayal flashing in her beautiful eyes.

Lying innocently in his palm was a scythe charm.

"You're the spy," I stated flatly, disbelief and confusion and betrayal fighting for dominance in my breast. "How could you, Malcolm?"

"Arrogance," he choked out. "Thought, false info. Protect us. But, they forced me, take an oath. 'm sorry. 'm so sorry."

"Charlie is dead because of you," Silena sobbed. "Not to mention everyone else. Rot in Punishment where you belong!" With those final, anger-filled words, she jumped back up and ran off into battle.

"I forgive you, Brother," Susanna told him softly. "I love you." She leaned down and kissed his sweaty forehead.

I reached out and ran a hand through his knotted blonde curls. "You made a mistake, but I forgive you too," I promised him. Why bother being angry when he was already dying? He'd been one of my closest friends for years, regardless of our parents' feud.

"Make 'im pay," Malcolm begged me, gripping my arm and leaving bloody handprints. "Make 'em all pay for what they've done."

"I will," I promised him. "I swear on the River Styx I'll see the Titans defeated or die trying."

He gave a weak smile, then stilled, staring blankly up at the sky.

A second later, a sound drew my attention, and I watched blankly, unable to find the will to try and help as Clarisse leaped aside to avoid being struck by the monster, the ground being pulverized instead. Then she jumped onto the creature's head. As it reared up, she drove her electric spear into its good eye with so much force it shattered the shaft, releasing all of the magic weapon's power.

Electricity arced across the creature's head, causing its whole body to shudder. Clarisse jumped free, rolling safely to the sidewalk as smoke boiled from the drakon's mouth. The drakon's flesh dissolved, and it collapsed into a hollow scaly tunnel of armour.

Those watching were awed by the feat. I had never even heard of anyone taking down such a huge monster single-handedly. But she simply ignored her feet, rushing back into the battle, her siblings following.

Susanna let out a sob, and I looked down. The fighting raged around me, but all I could do was cradle Malcolm's body in my arms and cry.

Something is about to happen. Rachel's words rang in my ears. Somebody is going to die.

She had been right. Malcolm Pace was dead in my arms, and it was all Kronos' fault.


	17. Godly Talks Galore

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Not much left now, guys! I hope everyone's enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Godly Talks Galore**

If anyone could claim to have been the saviour of our cause that day, it was Silena. Enraged by the revelation of what Malcolm had done, she charged at the enemy and proved anybody who claimed that the children of Aphrodite were weak wrong. She slashed and hacked through any enemy that got in her sights, using her empathy to revive our flagging spirits and cause despair in our opponents.

She was so inspiring, even the panicked centaurs and terrified nature spirits started to rally. The Hunters scrounged arrows from the fallen and launched volley after volley into the enemy. The Ares cabin cackled in bloodthirsty delight as they cut through the enemy. The monsters retreated toward 35th Street.

Meanwhile, Clarisse drove to the drakon's carcass and looped a grappling line through its eye sockets. She lashed her horses and took off to join her best friend, dragging the drakon behind herself like a Chinese New Year dragon. Silena jumped into the chariot and they charged after the enemy, yelling insults and daring them to fight them. As they rode closer, I realized that both of them were glowing. An aura of red fire flickered around Clarisse, while Silena glowed a dark, rose pink. She was even more gorgeous looking than usual, despite the dirt and blood and monster dust that covered her.

"The blessings of Ares and Aphrodite," Thalia whistled, impressed. "I've never seen either of them in person before."

For the moment, Clarisse was as invincible as I was. The enemy threw spears and arrows, but nothing hit her. Silena was protected by proximity, and she grabbed the spears and arrows right out of the air, firing them back at their original owners.

"I AM CLARISSE LA RUE, THE DRAKON-SLAYER!" Clarisse bellowed, completely lost to her bloodlust. "I will kill you ALL! Where is Kronos? Bring him out! Is he a coward?"

"Come and die!" Silena screamed in agreement. "You killed Charlie, my siblings! _Come and die!_"

"Clarisse!" I yelled. "Silena! Stop it. Withdraw!"

"What's the matter, Titan lord?" Clarisse demanded, both of them ignoring me. "BRING IT ON!"

There was no answer from the enemy. Slowly, they began to fall back behind a dracaenae shield wall, while Clarisse and Silena drove in circles around Fifth Avenue, daring anyone to cross their path. The two-hundred-foot-long drakon carcass made a hollow scraping noise against the pavement, like a thousand knives.

Meanwhile, we tended our wounded, bringing them inside the lobby. Long after the enemy had retreated from sight, the two of them kept riding up and down the avenue with Clarisse's horrible trophy, demanding that Kronos meet them in battle. Eventually, their blessings flickered out and Will and Kayla fired arrows laced with sedatives at them, to knock them unconscious and ensure they slept.

"Put them to bed, with somebody to watch over them," I instructed the Apollo kids exhaustedly, rubbing at my pounding temples. "Make sure they don't wake up and run off to get themselves killed."

They nodded silently and dispersed to tend the wounded as best they could with our dwindling supplies. I turned to Luke and leaned against his chest, taking solace in the familiar feeling of his muscular arms wrapped around me.

"What provoked Clarisse so much, anyway?" I asked him, voice muffled due to my face being pressed against his chest. "I know why Silena was upset but-"

"Chris," Luke stated, his voice dull with grief.

I flinched. "He's-?"

"Dead," Luke confirmed bleakly. "Yeah."

I exhaled and pulled back to meet his pained eyes. "I love you," I told him softly. If I were a mortal, unfamiliar with death and grief, I might've said 'I'm sorry' or something bullshit about condolences. I wasn't however, so I simply reminded him that he wasn't alone.

"He'll go to Elysium," I assured him softly, cupping his tight jaw.

"He will," Luke agreed, obviously trying to convince himself.

Chris had betrayed the gods once before, but he _had_ returned to Olympus, and he had given his life to defend the West. I knew that there wasn't a lot of justice in the world. (I blamed Zeus for that. Too busy knocking up any woman or nymph or goddess who'd look at him to ensure his domains were being properly looked after.) But that being said, surely there was enough goodness in the world that those brave people who'd given their all for Olympus could at least have the peace in death that life had never given them?

Thalia came in, looking dead on her feet. (Oh, that was a terrible choice of words. Gods, please don't let me have jinxed it.)

"My Hunters are standing guard," she reported to me as I turned towards her, putting on my 'general' mask. "Ana, Luke, you two should go up to Olympus. I have a feeling they'll need you up there—to set up the final defence."

I grimaced and agreed, leaving her in charge of things down here.

When we entered, we discovered that the doorman had disappeared from the lobby. His book was face-down on the desk and his chair was empty. The rest of the lobby, however, was jam-packed with wounded campers, Hunters, and satyrs.

Connor and Travis met us by the elevators.

"Is it true?" Connor asked. "About Malcolm?"

I nodded. "He died a hero."

Travis shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I also heard—"

"That's it," I insisted coldly. "He gave his life for Olympus. End of story."

"Right," Travis mumbled. "Listen, we figure the Titan's army will have trouble getting up the elevator. They'll have to go up a few at a time. And the giants won't be able to fit at all."

"That's our biggest advantage," I stated, nodding and crossing my arms as I thought. "Any way to disable the elevator?"

"It's magic," Travis shrugged. "Usually you need a key card, but the doorman vanished. That means the defences are crumbling. Anyone can walk into the elevator now and head straight up."

Of course. Because things needed to be _even harder_ for us.

"Then we have to keep them away from the doors," I sighed. "We'll bottle them up in the lobby. Who's in charge of Cabin 6 now?"

"Sophia was Malcolm's second-in-command, so I guess her," Luke told me tiredly. I nodded and turned to the Stolls.

"Speak to Sophia, tell her to see if she and her siblings can come up with any ideas to barricade the entrance."

They nodded, but didn't leave.

"We need reinforcements," Travis declared. "They'll just keep coming. Eventually they'll overwhelm us."

"There _are_ no reinforcements," Connor complained.

I looked outside at Mrs. O'Leary, who was breathing against the glass doors and smearing them with hellhound drool.

"Maybe that's not true," I murmured.

I went outside and put a hand on Mrs. O'Leary's muzzle. Chiron had bandaged her paw, but she was still limping. Her fur was matted with mud, leaves, pizza slices, and dried monster blood. My heart ached for my sweet dog's suffering. Whoever said that dogs were the most loyal pet you could have knew what they were talking about.

"Hey, girl." I tried to sound upbeat. "I know you're tired, but I've got one more big favour to ask you." I leaned next to her and whispered in her ear.

After Mrs. O'Leary shadow-travelled away, I re-joined Luke in the lobby. His brothers had gone off to find Sophia and relay my instructions. On the way to the elevator, we spotted Grover kneeling over a fat wounded satyr.

"Leneus!" I cried.

The old satyr looked terrible. His lips were blue. There was a broken spear in his belly, and his furry goat legs were twisted at a painful angle. Regardless of how he'd treated Grover, I was pained to see it. He hadn't deserved that.

He tried to focus on us, but I don't think he saw us.

"Grover?" he murmured.

"I'm here, Leneus." Grover was blinking back tears, despite all their argumentative history.

"Did . . . did we win?"

"Um . . . yes," Grover lied. "Thanks to you, Leneus. We drove the enemy away."

"Told you," the old satyr mumbled. "True leader. True . . ."

He closed his eyes for the last time.

Grover gulped. He put his hand on Leneus' forehead and spoke an ancient blessing. The old satyr's body melted, until all that was left was a tiny sapling in a pile of fresh soil.

"A laurel," Grover said in awe. "Oh, that lucky old goat."

He gathered up the sapling in his hands. "I . . . I should plant him. In Olympus, in the gardens."

"We're going that way," I informed him. "Come on."

Easy-listening music played as the elevator rose. I thought about the first time I'd visited Mount Olympus, back when I was twelve. Luke and Grover hadn't been with me then. I was glad they were with me now. I was afraid that it might be our last chance to be with each other.

On impulse, I reached out to clutch tightly at their hands and squeeze them. "Thank you both for everything," I told them solemnly. "I'd never have made it past twelve without you guys."

"Together 'til the end, Ariel," Luke promised me.

Grover nodded, eyes filled with unshed tears. "You're my best friend, Ana," he sniffled. "My sister."

I laughed painfully and hugged them both tightly until the elevator opened onto the home of the gods and we stepped out onto the aerial path.

Depressing is not a word that usually describes Mount Olympus, but it looked that way now. No fires lit the braziers. The windows were dark. The streets were deserted and the doors were barred. The only movement was in the parks, which had been set up as field hospitals. Will and the other medics scrambled around, caring for the wounded. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic songs to heal burns and poison. I even saw a Hunter kneeling beside a wounded son of Athena, feeding him ambrosia.

As Grover planted the laurel sapling, Luke and I went around trying to cheer up the wounded. I passed a satyr with a broken leg, a demigod who was bandaged from head to toe, and a body covered in the golden burial shroud of Apollo's cabin. I didn't know who was underneath. I didn't want to find out.

My heart felt like lead, but we tried to find positive things to say.

"You'll be up and fighting Titans in no time!" I chirruped at Evan, son of Ares as Kayla cauterized his bleeding leg with a hot curling iron because we were out of other options.

"You look great," Luke told Alina, a daughter of Demeter appreciatively. "If Ariel wasn't so jealous, she'd have competition." (I punched him for that, making her laugh weakly before grimacing in pain at the pressure on her broken ribs.)

"Leneus turned into a shrub!" Grover declared to a groaning satyr.

I found Dionysus' son Pollux propped up against a tree. He had a broken arm along with some cuts and bruises, but otherwise he was okay.

"I can still fight with the other hand," he insisted, gritting his teeth.

"No," I refused. "You've done enough. I want you to stay here and help with the wounded."

"But—"

"Promise me you'll stay safe," I ordered him. "Okay? Personal favour."

He gave me a bemused look, and I got why. We weren't close, after all. And gods knew that we needed every fighter we could get. But I'd promised Dionysus I'd do my best to keep his remaining son alive, and that's what I would do.

If even one camper survived, maybe this massacre described as a war could be forgiven.

Finally he promised, and when he sat back down, I could tell he was kind of relieved. I didn't blame him for it either.

Luke, Grover, and I kept walking toward the palace. That's where Kronos would head. As soon as he made it up the elevator—and I had no doubt he would, one way or another—he would destroy the throne room, the centre of the gods' power.

The bronze doors creaked open. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. The hearth was down to a dull red glow. Hestia, in the form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his sphere of water. He let out a half-hearted moo when he saw Luke and I enter.

In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping hands.

Standing at the foot of Zeus' throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase.

"Rachel?" I called to her carefully. "Um, what are you doing with that?"

She focused on me as if she were coming out of a dream. "I found it. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?"

Her eyes were brighter than usual, and I felt my stomach churn in worry as Luke stiffened at my side, eyeing Rachel warily.

"Please put down the jar," I asked her, voice strained as I tried to cover my fear. What was _happening_ to her?

"I can see Hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. "So fragile."

_"Rachel."_

My voice seemed to bring her back to reality. She held out the jar, and I took it. The clay felt as cold as ice.

"Grover," Luke grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door, giving a pointed 'do something about the crazy mortal' look. "Let's scout around the palace. Maybe we can find some extra Greek fire or Hephaestus traps."

"But—"

Luke yanked him by the arm.

"Right!" he yelped. "I love traps!"

Luke dragged him out of the throne room.

Over by the fire, Hestia was huddled in her robes, rocking back and forth.

"Come on," I told Rachel. "I want you to meet someone."

We sat next to the goddess.

"Lady Hestia," I greeted her with a bow. Of all the gods, I respected Hestia the most.

"Hello, Ana Jackson," the goddess murmured. "Getting colder. Harder to keep the fire going."

"I know," I agreed glumly. "The Titans are near. We won't be able to repel them another go."

Hestia focused on Rachel. "Hello, my dear. You've come to our hearth at last."

Rachel blinked. "You've been expecting me?"

Hestia held out her hands, and the coals glowed. I saw images in the fire: My mother and I speaking together in the Underworld; my friends and I around the campfire at Camp Half-Blood, singing songs and roasting marshmallows; Rachel and I driving along the beach.

I didn't know if Rachel saw the same images, but the tension went out of her shoulders. The warmth of the fire seemed to spread across her.

"To claim your place at the hearth," Hestia informed her, "you must let go of your distractions. It is the only way you will survive."

Rachel nodded. "I . . . I understand."

"Well I'm glad that somebody does, 'cause I sure as fuck don't," I huffed. "What is she talking about?"

"I thought I was coming here to give you the message, but that's not it," Rachel said softly to me. "We all have a destiny, Ana. Not just demigods."

"I know that," I replied frankly. I softened as I studied her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Destiny's a hard thing, RED," I warned her. "Be careful when you go to follow yours."

"I will," she promised.

"Ana Jackson, do not fear for Rachel Dare," Hestia murmured to me. "Her moment is coming, but your decision approaches even more rapidly. Are you prepared?"

I wanted to complain bitterly that no, I wasn't even close to prepared.

I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I felt the urge to open it. Hope seemed pretty useless to me right now. So many of my friends were dead. A monster army surrounded the building. Olympus was on the verge of failing, and I'd seen so many cruel things the gods had done: Zeus destroying Maria di'Angelo, Hades cursing the last Oracle and raising a hand to Nico.

I was so tired of fighting and losing those I loved for a bunch of selfish immortals who didn't even care that their children were dying for them.

_Surrender,_ Prometheus' voice whispered in my ear. _Otherwise your home will be destroyed. Your precious camp will burn._

Then I looked at Hestia. Her red eyes glowed warmly. I remembered the images I'd seen in her hearth—friends and family, everyone I cared about.

I remembered something Chris Rodriguez had once said after returning to Camp:_ I don't know why I ever thought it was a good idea. All of our friends and family are here at Camp. Kronos said we'd be saving ourselves, but really we'd just be kinslaying. _And Nico, standing up to his father, Hades:_ If Olympus falls, _he had said,_ your own palace's safety doesn't matter._

I'd promised Malcolm that Kronos would pay for what he'd done.

I heard footsteps. Luke and Grover came back into the throne room and stopped when they saw us. I probably had a pretty upset look on my face.

"Ariel?" Luke sounded concerned. "What's wrong, babe?"

Suddenly I felt like someone had injected me with steel. I understood what I had to do.

I looked at Rachel. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you? I mean . . . you talked to Chiron, right?"

She managed a faint smile. "_You're_ worried about _me_ doing something stupid?"

"But I mean . . . will you be okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "That kind of depends on whether you save the world, hero."

I picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container.

"Lady Hestia," I said formally, holding it out to her. "I give this to you as an offering."

The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?"

"You're the last Olympian," I declared. "And the most important."

"And why is that, Anaea Jackson?"

"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I explained what she already knew. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."

The goddess smiled. She took the jar in her hands and it began to glow. The hearth fire burned a little brighter.

"Well done, Ana Jackson," she murmured. "May the gods bless you."

"We're about to find out." I looked at Luke and Grover. "Come on, boys."

I marched toward my father's throne.

The seat of Poseidon stood just to the right of Zeus', but it wasn't nearly as grand. The moulded black leather seat was attached to a swivel pedestal, with a couple of iron rings on the side for fastening a fishing pole (or a trident). Basically it looked like a chair on a deep-sea boat, that you would sit in if you wanted to hunt shark or marlin or sea monsters.

Gods in their natural state are about twenty feet tall and I was about five, so I turned to Luke.

"Gimme your shoes," I ordered him.

"'Are you completely crazy?" He scoffed.

"Duh," I rolled my eyes. "Are you seriously just realizing that? Gods, talk about slow."

"Ana," Grover said, "the gods _really_ don't appreciate people sitting in their thrones. I mean like turn-you-into-a-pile-of-ashes don't appreciate it."

"I need to get his attention," I insisted stubbornly. "It's the only way."

They exchanged uneasy looks.

"Well," Luke gave in, "this'll definitely get his attention at any rate."

He gave me his shoes, about three sizes too big for my small feet, and I floated up and scrambled onto the throne. I felt like a baby with my feet so high off the ground. I looked around at the other gloomy, empty thrones, and I could imagine what it would be like sitting on the Olympian Council—so much power but so much arguing, always eleven other gods trying to get their way. It would be easy to get paranoid, to look out only for my own interest, especially if I were Poseidon. Sitting in his throne, I felt like I had the entire sea at my command—vast cubic miles of ocean churning with power and mystery. Why should Poseidon listen to anyone? Why shouldn't he be the greatest of the twelve?

Then I shook my head. Concentrate.

The throne rumbled. A wave of gale-force anger slammed into my mind:

_WHO DARES—_

The voice stopped abruptly. The anger retreated, which was a good thing, because just those two words had almost blasted my mind to shreds.

_Ana._ My father's voice was still angry but more controlled. _What—exactly—are you doing on my throne?_

"I'm sorry, my lord," I apologized. "I needed to get your attention."

_This was a very dangerous thing to do. Even for you. If I hadn't looked before I blasted, you would now be a puddle of seawater._

"I'm sorry," I repeated, before going to the problem at hand. "Father, please, I need you to listen to me."

I told him what was happening. Then I told him my plan.

His voice was silent for a long time.

_Ana, what you ask is impossible. My palace—_

"Father, Kronos sent an army against you on purpose. He wants to divide you from the other gods because he knows you could tip the scales."

_Be that as it may, he attacks my home._

"**This** is your home," I argued. "Olympus."

The floor shook. A wave of anger washed over my mind. I thought I'd gone too far, but then the trembling eased. In the background of my mental link, I heard underwater explosions and the sound of battle cries: Cyclopes bellowing, mermen shouting.

"Is Tyson okay?" I asked worriedly.

The question seemed to take Poseidon by surprise. _He's fine. Doing much better than I expected. Though "peanut butter" is a strange battle cry._

"You let him fight?"

_Stop changing the subject! You realize what you are asking me to do? My palace will be destroyed._

"And Olympus might be saved."

_Do you have any idea how long I've worked on remodelling this palace? The game room alone took six hundred years._

"You told me last year that I was your favourite child," I answered quietly. "If you meant that at all. If my life means** anything** to you, you will do this."

_Very well! It shall be as you say. But my daughter, pray this works._

"I am praying," I reasoned. "I'm talking to you, right?"

_Oh . . . yes. Good point. Amphitrite—incoming!_

The sound of a large explosion shattered our connection.

I slipped down from the throne.

Grover studied me nervously. "Are you okay? You turned pale and . . . you started smoking."

"I did not!" Then I looked at my arms. Steam was curling off my shirtsleeves. The hair on my arms was singed.

"If you'd sat there any longer," Luke deadpanned, "you would've spontaneously combusted. I hope the conversation was worth it?"

Moo, said the Ophiotaurus in his sphere of water.

"We'll find out soon," I grimaced.

Just then the doors of the throne room swung open. Thalia marched in. Her bow was snapped in half and her quiver was empty.

"You've got to get down there," she told us. "The enemy is advancing. And Kronos and Themis are _both_ leading them."


	18. Help From Hades

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Oh my gods, can you guys believe it's chapter 18 of 23 already? Only five left! Enjoy.**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Help From Hades**

By the time we got to the street, it was too late.

Campers and Hunters alike lay wounded on the ground. Clarisse must've lost a fight with a Hyperborean giant, because she and her chariot were frozen in a block of ice. To my agony, I saw Silena lying in a pool of blood on the ground, and I couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. The centaurs were nowhere to be seen. Either they'd panicked and ran or they'd been disintegrated. Same for the nature spirits, though a few particularly brave ones continued to struggle on with the fight.

The Titan army ringed the building, standing maybe twenty feet from the doors. Kronos' vanguard was in the lead: Alabaster Torrington, the dracaena queen in her green armour, and two Hyperboreans. I didn't see Prometheus. The slimy weasel was probably hiding back at their headquarters. But Kronos himself stood right in front with his scythe in hand. Themis was in the chariot beside him, looking smug and triumphant.

The only thing standing in their way was . . .

"Chiron," I breathed, my voice trembling. Gods, no. Please not him.

If Chiron heard us arrive, he didn't show it. He had an arrow notched, aimed straight at Kronos' face.

As soon as Kronos saw me, his gold eyes flared. Every muscle in my body froze. Then the Titan lord turned his attention back to Chiron. "Step aside, little son."

Hearing a teenager call Chiron his son was weird enough, but Kronos put contempt in his voice, like son was the worst insult he could think of.

"I'm afraid not." Chiron's tone was steely calm, the way he gets when he's really angry.

"If you refuse to move, then we shall have to make you," Themis informed him silkily.

I tried to move, but my feet felt like concrete. Luke, Grover, and Thalia were straining too, like they were just as stuck.

"Chiron!" Luke called desperately. "Look out!"

The dracaena queen became impatient and charged. Chiron's arrow flew straight between her eyes and she vaporized on the spot, her empty armour clattering to the asphalt.

Chiron reached for another arrow, but his quiver was empty. He dropped the bow and drew his sword. I knew he hated fighting with a sword. It was never his favourite weapon. On the few occasions he had sparred with me using it, I had easily beaten him.

Kronos chuckled. He advanced a step, and Chiron's horse-half skittered nervously. His tail flicked back and forth. My heart was in my throat.

"You're a teacher," Kronos sneered. "Not a hero."

"Of course, that could save you," Themis noted idly, as if Chiron's life was a game. As if he wasn't the cornerstone for every demigod in Camp. "Heroes' lives always end in tragedy, after all. Be a coward, swear loyalty to us. We will spare you."

"Annabeth was a hero," Chiron stated. "And so was Ethan. They would've been great, had you not corrupted them."

"FOOL!" Kronos' voice shook the city. "You filled his head with empty promises. You said the gods cared about me!"

"Me," Chiron noticed. "You said _me_."

Kronos looked confused, and in that moment, Chiron struck. It was a good maneuver—a feint followed by a strike to the face. I couldn't have done better myself, but Kronos was quick. He had all of Ethan's fighting skill, and however much I loathed the guy, I had to acknowledge that was a lot. In addition, Themis had inherited Annabeth's knife-fighting skills. While Kronos knocked aside Chiron's blade and yelled, "BACK!", Themis stabbed Chiron in the upper chest, then pushed him hard in the chest.

Meanwhile, a blinding white light exploded. Chiron flew into the side of the building with such force the wall crumbled and collapsed on top of him.

"No!" I wailed. The freezing spell broke. We ran toward our teacher, but there was no sign of him. The four of us pulled helplessly at the bricks while a ripple of ugly laughter ran through the Titan's army.

"You!" Luke bellowed, grief-stricken and furious. He turned to glare furiously at the Titans. "You did this!"

Before I could stop them, he lunged at the Titans, cutting down one of the Hyperborean giants by severing its artery, then charged at the chariot. Themis' laugh was cut off as she scrambled to defend herself, while Kronos hastily blocked Luke's strikes.

If Luke had been dealing with any other opponents, and if he'd been more clear-headed, chances were he'd have won. As it was, I screamed again, this time calling out Luke's name, when Kronos sent him flying backwards to land in a heap near the door to the Empire State Building, Themis' knife buried in his abdomen.

I wanted to go to him, but I knew it wasn't possible. I pushed Thalia in his direction and braced myself to fight. In the back of my mind, I realized that the sun was rising.

It was August 18th, and I had just turned sixteen.

"Go to Luke!" I called to her. "I'll deal with 'em!"

She grimaced guiltily and ran to his side, pulling a mostly-empty canteen of nectar off of her belt.

At the same time, Kronos raised his scythe. I got ready to defend, but before Kronos could strike, a dog's howl pierced the air somewhere behind the Titan's army. "Arroooooooo!"

It was too much to hope, but I called, "Mrs. O'Leary?"

The enemy forces stirred uneasily. Then the strangest thing happened. They began to part, clearing a path through the street like something behind them was forcing them to.

Soon there was a free aisle down the centre of Fifth Avenue. Standing at the end of the block was my giant dog, and a small figure in black armour.

"Nico?" I asked.

"ROWWF!" Mrs. O'Leary bounded toward me, ignoring the growling monsters on either side. Nico strode forward. The enemy army fell back before him like he radiated death, which of course he did.

Through the face guard of his skull-shaped helmet, he smiled. "Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?"

"Well, I suppose we can make some room," I joked back, starting to hope again. If we could just delay him destroying the throne room for a little longer... I quickly reached out to give him a lightning-fast side-hug. "Thank you," I breathed into his ear before pulling back.

"How sweet," Themis sneered. "The two children of Hades and Poseidon standing together as Olympus' last defenders."

"Actually, it's _all_ of the children of the Big Three!" Thalia came striding to our sides, flashing us a grim smile as she adjusted her grip on her spear.

Themis sneered mockingly. "Do you fools truly think you can stop us?"

"Do you love death so much you wish to experience it, Son of Hades?" Kronos added, spitting when he said Hades' name.

"Well, we can only do our best," Thalia shrugged.

"Your death," Nico stated in response to Kronos' question, "would be _great_ for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

Nico drew his sword—three feet of wicked sharp Stygian iron, black as a nightmare. "I don't agree."

"Neither do we," I added darkly, raising Anaklusmos. Thalia slapped her bracelet, making Aegis spin out.

Nico plunged his sword into the ground, making it rumble. Cracks appeared in the road, the sidewalks, the sides of the buildings. Skeletal hands grasped the air as the dead clawed their way into the world of the living. There were thousands of them, and as they emerged, the Titan's monsters got jumpy and started to back up.

Thalia whistled under her breath. "Go Nico!" she muttered. He grinned.

"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Kronos demanded. "The dead are no match for us." I noticed, though, that Themis wore an unnerved expression as she eyed the spirits and skeletons.

The sky turned dark and cold. Shadows thickened. A harsh war horn sounded, and as the dead soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared down Fifth Avenue. It came to a stop next to Nico. The horses were living shadows, fashioned from darkness. The chariot was inlaid with obsidian and gold, decorated with scenes of painful death. Holding the reins was Hades himself, Lord of the Dead, with Demeter and Persephone riding behind him.

Hades wore black armour and a cloak the colour of fresh blood. On top of his pale head was the helm of darkness: a crown that radiated pure terror. It changed shape as I watched—from a dragon's head to a circle of black flames to a wreath of human bones. But that wasn't the scary part. The helm reached into my mind and ignited my worst nightmares, my most secret fears. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, and I could tell the enemy army felt the same way. Only Kronos' power and authority kept his ranks from fleeing.

Hades smiled coldly. "Hello, Father. You're looking . . . young."

"Hades," Kronos growled. "I hope you and the ladies have come to pledge your allegiance."

"I'm afraid not." Hades sighed. "My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies." He glanced at me with distaste. "As much as I dislike certain upstart demigods, it would not do for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on—it is that you were a TERRIBLE father."

"True," muttered Demeter. "No appreciation of agriculture."

"Mother!" Persephone complained.

Hades drew his sword, a double-edged Stygian blade etched with silver. "Now fight me! For today the House of Hades will be called the saviours of Olympus."

"I don't have time for this," Kronos snarled.

He thought _he_ was on a deadline? That was seriously irritating. I mean, not as much as everything else, but still. Asshole. I'd call him a bastard, but that'd be insulting pretty much everyone I knew.

Kronos struck the ground with his scythe. A crack spread in both directions, circling the Empire State Building. A wall of force shimmered along the fissure line, separating Kronos' vanguard, my friends, and me from the bulk of the two armies.

"What's he doing?" I muttered.

"Sealing us in," Thalia replied. "He's collapsing the magic barriers around Manhattan—cutting off just the building, and us."

Sure enough, outside the barrier, car engines revved to life. Pedestrians woke up and stared uncomprehendingly at the monsters and zombies all around them. No telling what they saw through the Mist, but I'm sure it was plenty scary. Car doors opened, their confused drivers exiting the vehicles. I was horrified to see monsters turning towards the innocents, defenceless and unaware of the peril that they were in.

Fortunately, Hades caused a distraction. He charged at the wall of force, but his chariot crashed against it and overturned. He got to his feet, cursing, and blasted the wall with black energy. The barrier held.

"ATTACK!" he roared.

The armies of the dead clashed with the Titan's monsters. Fifth Avenue exploded into absolute chaos. Mortals screamed and ran for cover. Demeter waved her hand and an entire column of giants turned into a wheat field. Persephone changed the dracaenae's spears into sunflowers. Nico slashed and hacked his way through the enemy, trying to protect the pedestrians as best he could.

"Torrington, Themis my love," Kronos said. "Attend me. Giants—deal with them."

He pointed at my friends and me. Then he ducked into the lobby.

For a second I was stunned. I'd been expecting a fight, but Kronos completely ignored me like I wasn't worth the trouble. That pissed me off. Who the fuck did that jerk think he was, ignoring me?

The first Hyperborean giant smashed at me with his club. I rolled between his legs and stabbed Anaklusmos into his lower spine. He shattered into a pile of ice shards. The second giant breathed frost at Luke, who was healed enough to just barely be able to stand, but Grover pulled him out of the way while Thalia went to work. She sprinted up the giant's back like a gazelle, sliced her hunting knives across his monstrous blue neck, and created the world's largest headless ice sculpture.

I glanced outside the magic barrier. Nico was cutting a swathe through the monsters, aided by the skeletons summoned by him and Hades.

"Ana," he yelled at me, "we'll handle the army. You have to get Kronos!"

"Come on, Ariel!" Luke agreed. He was barely standing and was white as a sheet save for two flushed cheeks from the nectar, but I could tell that he wouldn't stay behind.

I nodded. Then I looked at the rubble pile on the side of the building. My heart twisted. I'd forgotten about Chiron. How could I do that?

"Mrs. O'Leary," I called at her. "Please, Chiron's under there. If anyone can dig him out, you can. Find him! Help him!"

I'm not sure how much she understood, but she bounded to the pile and started to dig. Then Luke, Thalia, Grover, and I raced for the elevators.


	19. Prophecy Fulfilled

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. This is guys. The climax. I hope that I did it justice. Don't tell if I didn't, tell me if you think that I did. :-D**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Prophecy Is Fulfilled**

The bridge to Olympus was dissolving. We stepped out of the elevator onto the white marble walkway, and immediately cracks appeared at our feet.

"Jump!" Grover said, which was easy for him since he's part mountain goat. He sprang to the next slab of stone while ours tilted sickeningly.

"Gods, I hate heights!" Thalia snapped loudly as she and I leaped. But Luke was in no shape for jumping. He stumbled and yelled, "Ana!"

I caught his hand as the pavement fell, crumbling into dust. For a second I thought he was going to pull us both over. His feet dangled in the open air, their tiny wings damaged in the battle and unable to do more than flutter helplessly. His hand started to slip until I was holding him only by his fingers. Then Grover and Thalia grabbed my legs, and I found extra strength. Luke was not going to fall. I wouldn't lose him.

I pulled him up and we lay trembling on the pavement, arms and legs entangled. He leaned over and gave a quick, but passionate kiss. "If we get out of this mess, Ariel," he muttered. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with you."

"I'd agree to marry you, but I'm afraid that Hera'd curse us out of spite," I replied, silently agreeing with him. Who else would I ever want to be with after having my other half? Wasn't there a story about humans originally being two people attached to each other, only for them all to be split apart due to Zeus' paranoia? If that was real, then Luke was my other half.

"Keep moving!" Grover tugged my shoulder. We untangled ourselves and sprinted across the sky bridge as more stones disintegrated and fell into oblivion. We made it to the edge of the mountain just as the final section collapsed.

Luke looked back at the elevator, which was now completely out of reach—a polished set of metal doors hanging in space, attached to nothing, six hundred stories above Manhattan.

"We're trapped," he stated ominously. "On our own."

I shrugged resignedly. "Aren't we always?"

"Blah-ha-ha!" Grover moaned fearfully. "This is serious Ana! The connection between Olympus and America is dissolving. If it fails—"

"The gods won't move on to another country this time," Thalia warned. "This will be the end of Olympus. The final end."

"Then we better hurry," I declared, tugging Luke forward. We ran through streets. Mansions were burning. Statues had been hacked down. Trees in the parks were blasted to splinters. It looked like someone had attacked the city with a giant weedwacker.

"Kronos' scythe," I spat. "σ 'αυτόν!"

We followed the winding path toward the palace of the gods. I didn't remember the road being so long. Maybe Kronos was making time go slower, or maybe it was just dread slowing me down. The whole mountaintop was in ruins—so many beautiful buildings and gardens gone.

A few brave minor gods and nature spirits had tried to stop Kronos. What remained of them was strewn about the road: shattered armour, ripped clothing, swords and spears broken in half.

Somewhere ahead of us, Kronos' voice roared: "Brick by brick! That was my promise. Tear it down BRICK BY BRICK!"

A white marble temple with a gold dome suddenly exploded. The dome shot up like the lid of a teapot and shattered into a billion pieces, raining rubble over the city.

"That was a shrine to Artemis," Thalia grumbled. "He'll pay for that."

We were running under the marble archway with the huge statues of Zeus and Hera when the entire mountain groaned, rocking sideways like a boat in a storm.

"Look out!" Grover yelped. The archway crumbled. I looked up in time to see a twenty-ton scowling Hera topple over on us. Luke and I would've been flattened, but Thalia shoved us from behind and we landed just out of danger.

"Thalia!" Grover cried.

When the dust cleared and the mountain stopped rocking, we found her still alive, but her legs were pinned under the statue.

We tried desperately to move it, but it would've taken several Cyclopes. When we tried to pull Thalia out from under it, she yelled in pain.

"I survive all those battles," she growled, "and I get defeated by a stupid chunk of rock!"

"It's Hera," I snarled furiously. "She's had it in for me all year. Her statue would've killed me if you hadn't pushed us away."

Thalia grimaced. "Well, don't just stand there! I'll be fine. Go!"

We didn't want to leave her, but I could hear Kronos laughing as he approached the hall of the gods. More buildings exploded.

"We'll be back," I promised.

"I'm not going anywhere," Thalia groaned.

A fireball erupted on the side of the mountain, right near the gates of the palace.

"We've got to run," I said.

"I don't suppose you mean away," Grover murmured hopefully.

"Of course not," I snorted. "That'd be the easy thing, wouldn't it? Sides, we'll probably die quicker this way."

"Lovely."

The doors of the palace were big enough to steer a cruise ship through, but they'd been ripped off their hinges and smashed like they weighed nothing. We had to climb over a huge pile of broken stone and twisted metal to get inside.

Kronos stood in the middle of the throne room, his arms wide, staring at the starry ceiling as if taking it all in. His laughter echoed even louder than it had from the pit of Tartarus.

"Finally!" he bellowed. "The Olympian Council—so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I destroy first?"

"So many to choose from, my beloved," Themis purred, clutching at his arm. "But perhaps destroying one of your children's thrones first would be fitting? Zeus or Hera maybe, given that they claim the titles that rightfully belong to us."

Torrington stood to one side, trying to stay out of the way of his master's scythe. The hearth was almost dead, just a few coals glowing deep in the ashes. Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rachel. I hoped she was okay, but I'd seen so much death and destruction that I was afraid to think about it. The Ophiotaurus swam in his water sphere in the far corner of the room, wisely not making a sound, but it wouldn't be long before Kronos noticed him.

Luke, Grover, and I stepped forward into the torchlight. Alabaster saw us first. "My lord," he warned.

Kronos turned and smiled through Ethan's face. Except for the golden eyes, he looked just the same as he had four years ago when he'd watched Annabeth poison me before they had fled Camp.

"Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?" Kronos asked. "Is that the choice you will make—to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."

"Ethan would fight with a sword," I replied coolly. "But I suppose you don't have his skill."

"Insolent little whore!" Themis hissed.

I blinked at that, genuinely surprised. "Whore? What the fuck do you mean, whore? I'm a virgin, bitch."

"So you haven't spread your legs for Luke yet then?" she sneered.

My eyes narrowed, having noticed the way hers turned grey as she spoke, before returning to their unearthly bronze.

"Jealous, _Annabeth_?" I asked icily. Luke stiffened beside me, staring at Themis intently. I prayed he didn't let his mixture of love and hatred for his former surrogate sister con him into doing something foolish.

Themis glared at me. "Jealous? Of a mortal? How dare you! You all should be kissing the ground we walk on, begging for us to spare you!"

"I'd rather die fighting you, then live as your slave."

"Very well," Kronos responded in a deadly tone. "If you are so eager to have your soul reaped, then I will be happy to oblige you. Themis, deal with the males, I will destroy the girl. Torrington, stay out of our way."

"Can't fight properly with distractions?" I taunted, bracing myself as my boys did the same.

Kronos sneered. His scythe began to change, until he held Ethan's old weapon, Backbiter, with its half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade. Themis unsheathed the knife that Luke had given Annabeth the day they met, swearing they'd always be family.

Next to me, Luke let out a hiss of realization. "Ana, the knife!" he exclaimed. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

I didn't understand why he was reminding me of that prophecy line right now. It wasn't exactly a morale booster, but before I could say anything, Kronos and Themis raised their weapons.

"No!" Luke yelled.

Kronos came at me like a whirlwind.

My instincts took over. I dodged and slashed and rolled, but I felt like I was fighting a hundred swordsmen. Themis attacked Luke and Grover, and I heard the knife crashing against Halcyon while Grover playing his reed pipes. The sound of the pipes filled me with warmth and courage—thoughts of sunlight and a blue sky and a calm meadow with the ones I loved, somewhere far away from the war. Peace.

Kronos backed me up against the throne of Hephaestus—a huge mechanical La-Z-Boy type thing covered with bronze and silver gears. Kronos slashed, and I managed to jump straight up onto the seat. The throne whirred and hummed with secret mechanisms. _Defence mode,_ it warned._ Defence mode._

That sounded bad for anybody in range. Most importantly right now, _me_. I jumped straight over Kronos' head as the throne shot tendrils of electricity in all directions. One hit Kronos in the face, arcing down his body and up his sword.

"ARG!" He crumpled to his knees and dropped Backbiter.

"My lord!" Themis and Torrington cried.

"Annabeth, listen to me!" Luke pled.

"Annabeth is gone!" Themis retorted.

"No, she isn't," Luke insisted. "I know that she isn't! Annie, kiddo, please. I know that you're in there."

I wanted to intervene, but I was busy fending off Torrington's attacks. He had, on seeing Kronos be injured, attacked me. He was wielding a gold sword. While his skill didn't compare to my own, his enchanted armour covered any vulnerable body parts, and I was morally reluctant to murder another half-blood.

"Arrggh!" Luke groaned in agony as Themis kicked him so hard he flew across the room, hitting his father's throne.

"Luke!" I cried. Before I could do anything, Torrington moved to stand in front of Luke, blocking Grover and I from helping him, whilst Themis moved to face me. Grover's music took on a more urgent tune. He moved toward Luke, but he couldn't go any faster and keep up the song. Grass grew on the floor of the throne room. Tiny roots crept up between the cracks of the marble stones.

"Torrington, now is your chance to prove your loyalty to us," Themis demanded. "Tell me Jackson's weak point! I know that you know! Tell me!"

"Look around you, Alabaster," I begged him. "It's the end of the world! Your siblings are dying in the streets! The Olympians aren't perfect, they're awful and selfish and cruel! But they're better than the Titans! What do you think will happen to mortals and demigods alike when they take over?"

Alabaster hesitated. He looked around. "There's no throne for my mother," he muttered. "No throne for Hecate, or any of the minor gods. The Olympians care only for themselves. The Divine Mafia."

"And you think that the Titans are any better?" I scoffed. "Is this the reward you want? Do you really want everything destroyed—the good with the bad? Everything? The Olympians are cruel, but at least we live under their rule. The Titans would only spare some mortals to torture them for amusement. Believe me, I was held by them! They laughed while crushing the bones in my hand to dust, one by one! When I got back home, the Apollo kids had to replace them with a Celestial Bronze hand skeleton!"

Grover was almost to Luke now. The grass thickened on the floor. The roots were almost a foot long, like a stubble of whiskers.

Alabaster looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing, and Alabaster swayed to it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia—a wish to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here. He blinked dazedly.

Then he charged . . . but not at me.

While Kronos was still on his knees, Torrington brought down his sword on the Titan lord's neck. It should have killed him instantly, but the blade shattered, regardless of its magic.

"Traitor!" Themis cried. She raised a hand and shot a bolt of energy at him. It ripped through his magical armour like a knife through soft butter, and blood began flowing out of his stomach like a river. Alabaster collapsed onto his knees, clutching at the wound as blood spilled from his mouth.

Kronos rose unsteadily, towering over his servant. "Treason," he snarled.

Grover's music kept playing, and grass grew around Alabaster's body. Alabaster stared at me, his face tight with pain.

"Deserve better," he gasped. "If they just . . . had thrones—"

I nodded in silent understanding, but I couldn't do anything to stop it when Kronos stomped his foot, and the floor ruptured around Alabaster. The son of Hecate fell through a fissure that went straight through the heart of the mountain—straight into open air.

"So much for him." Kronos picked up his sword. "And now for the rest of you."

"Allow me the pleasure, my lord," Themis requested. She shot me a vicious look. "I will gladly bring you the girl's head."

"As you wish, my love," Kronos agreed, stepping back. I exhaled and raised my sword in a defensive position. My only thought was to keep their away from Luke.

Grover was at his side now. He'd stopped playing and was feeding her ambrosia.

Everywhere one of the Titans moved, the roots wrapped around their feet, but Grover had stopped his magic too early. The roots weren't thick or strong enough to do much more than annoy them.

Themis strode towards me, lunging with her knife. I blocked it, never more thankful for my inbred battle reflexes. Our blades clashed, and my breath came in pants as I struggled to breathe through the exertion. At one point, Themis kicked and I slammed into Athena's throne. I rolled away, feeling my ribs ache as if they were broken.

"Annie!" Luke called. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reaching out a hand towards us. He had to be speaking to Themis. Luke had only ever called Annabeth 'Annie'. "Annie, please," he repeated. "Come back to me, kiddo. This isn't you. This isn't my sister. Come back, Annie, I'm begging you."

"Annabeth is gone!" Themis roared, turning on him furiously.

"No she isn't," he insisted.

I stayed tense and silent. I didn't know what he was doing, but I knew Luke. I trusted him.

"Please, Annie," Luke gasped through the blood spilling from his mouth. "Remember our promise."

Themis faltered, looking down at the knife she held. "Family," she mumbled, her eyes going grey again. "Always."

"That's right," Luke agreed. "Please, Annie."

Themis swayed in confusion. Kronos snarled in rage, stalking towards Luke. The next few moments blurred. I lunged towards the Titan king, desperate to stop him.

And so did Annabeth. There was no trace of Themis in her as she let out a cry of "No! Luke!" and flung herself at Kronos. I watched in shock as she aimed her knife at a specific spot. But he was faster, and spun at her, snatching her own knife away and using it against her. He too aimed for a specific spot. He slashed just beneath her ear, a place usually hidden by her helmet and not a place anybody would think to attack without a specific reason to believe it was a weak spot.

Annabeth let out a scream of pain as gold light burst out of her, and she was sent flying to land next to Luke by Kronos' follow-up kick. He tossed the knife away, leaving it to skitter near to its owner, before whirling on _me._

"Annabeth!" Luke moaned, dragging himself to her side. Grover hastily knelt beside her, pressing ambrosia to her lips.

I, meanwhile, was struggling to fend off Kronos' furious and lightning-quick attacks.

"Women!" he snarled. "When I have destroyed the gods, I will destroy all the women in the world as well! Weak-hearted traitors, all of you!"

I wanted to go for the same spot Annabeth had been going for, because it had to be Kronos' weak point, but I could barely manage to defend myself, let alone go on the offence.

We fought through the hearth, kicking up coals and sparks. Kronos slashed an armrest off the throne of Ares, which was okay by me, but then he backed me up to my father's throne.

"Oh, yes," Kronos smirked angrily. "This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!"

Our blades clashed in a shower of sparks. He was stronger than me, but for the moment I felt the power of the ocean in my arms. I pushed him back and struck again—slashing Anaklusmos across his breastplate so hard I cut a gash in the Celestial bronze.

He stamped his foot again and time slowed. I tried to attack but I was moving at the speed of a glacier. Kronos backed up leisurely, catching his breath. He examined the gash in his armour while I struggled forward, silently cursing him. He could take all the time-outs he wanted. He could freeze me in place at will. My only hope was that the effort was draining him. If I could wear him down . . .

"It's too late, Anaea Jackson," he declared. "Behold."

He pointed to the hearth, and the coals glowed. A sheet of white smoke poured from the fire, forming images like an Iris-message. I saw Nico and my remaining friends down on Fifth Avenue, fighting a hopeless battle, ringed in enemies. In the background Hades fought from his black chariot, summoning wave after wave of zombies out of the ground, but the forces of the Titan's army seemed just as endless. Meanwhile, Manhattan was being destroyed. Mortals, now fully awake, were running in terror. Cars swerved and crashed.

Then the scene shifted, and I saw something even more terrifying.

A column of storm was approaching the Hudson River, moving rapidly over the Jersey shore. Chariots circled it, locked in combat with the creature in the cloud.

The gods attacked. Lightning flashed. Arrows of gold and silver streaked into the cloud like rocket tracers and exploded. Slowly, the cloud ripped apart, and I saw Typhon clearly for the first time.

I knew as long as I lived (which might not be that long) I would never be able to get the image out of my mind. Typhon's head shifted constantly. Every moment he was a different monster, each more horrible than the last. Looking at his face would've driven me insane, so I focused on his body, which wasn't much better. He was humanoid, but his skin was mottled green, with blisters the size of buildings, and blackened patches from eons of being stuck under a volcano. His hands were human, but with talons like an eagle's. His legs were scaly and reptilian.

"The Olympians are giving their final effort." Kronos laughed. "How pathetic."

Zeus threw a thunderbolt from his chariot. The blast lit up the world. I could feel the shock even here on Olympus, but when the dust cleared, Typhon was still standing. He staggered a bit, with a smoking crater on top of his misshapen head, but he roared in anger and kept advancing.

My limbs began to loosen up. Kronos didn't seem to notice. His attention was focused on the fight and his final victory. If I could hold out a few more seconds, and if my father kept his word . . .

Typhon stepped into the Hudson River and barely sank to midcalf.

Now, I thought, imploring the image in the smoke. Please, it has to happen now.

Like a miracle, a conch horn sounded from the smoky picture. The call of the ocean. The call of Poseidon.

All around Typhon, the Hudson River erupted, churning with forty-foot waves. Out of the water burst a new chariot—this one pulled by massive hippocampi, who swam in air as easily as in water. My father, glowing with a blue aura of power, rode a defiant circle around the giant's legs. Poseidon was no longer an old man. He looked like himself again—tan and strong with a black beard. As he swung his trident, the river responded, making a funnel cloud around the monster.

"No!" Kronos bellowed after a moment of stunned silence. "NO!"

I laughed in delight and relief. I had never seen a more wonderful sight.

"NOW, MY BRETHREN!" Poseidon's voice was so loud I wasn't sure if I was hearing it from the smoke image or from all the way across town. "STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!"

Warriors burst out of the river, riding the waves on huge sharks and dragons and sea horses. It was a legion of Cyclopes, and leading them into battle was . . .

"Tyson!" I yelled.

I knew he couldn't hear me, but I stared at him in amazement. He'd magically grown in size. He had to be thirty feet tall, as big as any of his older cousins, and for the first time he was wearing full battle armour. Riding behind him was Briares, the Hundred-Handed One.

All the Cyclopes held huge lengths of black iron chains—big enough to anchor a battleship—with grappling hooks at the ends. They swung them like lassos and began to ensnare Typhon, throwing lines around the creature's legs and arms, using the tide to keep circling, slowly tangling him. Typhon shook and roared and yanked at the chains, pulling some of the Cyclopes off their mounts; but there were too many chains. The sheer weight of the Cyclops battalion began to weigh Typhon down. Poseidon threw his trident and impaled the monster in the throat. Golden ichor spewed from the wound, making a waterfall taller than a skyscraper. The trident flew back to Poseidon's hand.

The other gods struck with renewed force. Ares rode in and stabbed Typhon in the nose. Artemis shot the monster in the eye with a dozen silver arrows. Apollo shot a blazing volley of arrows and set the monster's loincloth on fire. And Zeus kept pounding the giant with lightning, until finally, slowly, the water rose, wrapping Typhon like a cocoon, and he began to sink under the weight of the chains. Typhon bellowed in agony, thrashing with such force that waves sloshed the Jersey shore, soaking five-story buildings and splashing over the George Washington Bridge—but down he went as my father opened a special tunnel for him at the bottom of the river—an endless waterslide that would take him straight to Tartarus. The giant's head went under in a seething whirlpool, and he was gone.

"BAH!" Kronos screamed. He slashed his sword through the smoke, tearing the image to shreds.

"It's over now, Kronos," I announced triumphantly. "You couldn't defeat the gods the first time around when you _weren't_ trapped in a mortal body! They'll be here soon. You've lost!"

"I haven't even started."

He advanced with blinding speed. Grover—brave, stupid satyr that he was—ran forward to try and protect me, but Kronos tossed him aside like a rag doll.

I sidestepped and jabbed under Kronos' guard. It was a good trick. Unfortunately, Ethan knew it. I had used it against him before. He countered the strike and disarmed me. My sword skittered across the ground and fell straight into the open fissure.

"Ana!" Luke yelled desperately. Kronos kicked me in my sore chest and I found myself sprawled on the floor, staring up at the king of the Titans as he stalked towards me.

I shifted my gaze to look at my friends. Grover was unconscious in a pool of blood, but his chest was still moving reassuringly. Luke was on his hands and knees, trying to crawl towards me, an agonized expression on his face.

It was a terribly cliché thing to do, but I mouthed "I love you," at him anyway. His face crumpled, and he mouthed it back to me.

Then I looked at Annabeth. I could tell she was dying, and her eyes were still storm-cloud grey, no trace of Themis' cruel bronze ones. She met my eyes, struggling to her knees and holding her knife.

Suddenly, I understood.

"You're not the hero," Rachel had told me. I wasn't. But now I understood who _was._

Cursed blade shall reap, the Great Prophecy said. Luke had given his knife to Annabeth, swearing that they would be family forever. Then she had betrayed Camp and tried to kill me, and he had turned his back on her. Promises were sacred for half-bloods and people of the Greek world. By breaking that promise, he had cursed the knife it had been sworn on.

A single choice. I had to make my decision now. I gave her the faintest of head nods, then jack-knifed to my feet.

Kronos sneered. "Foolish girl," he scoffed in disgusted disdain. "You never give up."

"Not today anyway," I agreed. I charged at his left side with the knife I kept in my sleeve, forcing him to raise his arm.

That was when Annabeth threw her knife. She was weak, and the weapon only just scratched him with its tip.

It was enough.

Kronos howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing me off my feet. An aura of energy surrounded Kronos, growing brighter and brighter. I shut my eyes and felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister my skin and crack my lips.

It was silent for a long time.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Kronos sprawled at the hearth, eyes brown and staring blankly. His chest wasn't moving and his left side was covered in blood. On the floor around him was a blackened circle of ash. Kronos' scythe had liquefied into molten metal and was trickling into the coals of the hearth, which now glowed like a blacksmith's furnace.

I turned towards Luke and Annabeth, and raced over to them, falling to my knees between them.

"I'm, sorry," Annabeth gasped out, her expression filled with regret as she looked at Luke. "I never...intended this...to happen."

"I forgive you," he replied, voice cracking. "I know that you didn't."

"I'll get ambrosia," I offered desperately. "Will can-"

"No," Annabeth shook her head. "Too late. I'm sorry...Ana! I was...jealous of you...pretty, and talented, and Luke couldn't keep...his eyes...off you."

"I'll make sure you go to Elysium," I vowed, my shoulders slumping. "I swear you will."

She smiled a bloody smile. "Bet that...I can be...an architect there."

"A monument to last a thousand years," Luke said softly, his face shining with grief.

She nodded, smiling weakly. Then she looked at me, reaching up to grab my arm. "Don' let...this be for...nothing," she begged me. "No more...unclaimed...All this, because they...didn't care. Don't let..."

"I won't," I swore. "I swear on the River Styx, Annabeth. Yours and everyone else's deaths won't be in vain. No more unclaimed."

Annabeth nodded, and looked at Luke. "You were, the best big brother, I could've asked for," she told him.

"You were always my favourite sibling," he answered, voice wobbling.

She smiled again. "Tell Thalia an' Chiron, love 'em. My father too. Don' let 'im know wha' I did, please. Say...'m sorry an'...forgive 'im!"

"We will," I agreed. "Your father will know that you died a true hero."

She looked sad as she turned to Luke. "I love you, Luke," she murmured.

"I love you too, Annie," he said, his voice cracking as the tears finally spilled out of his eyes.

She sighed and her expression slackened. Luke wailed unashamedly, burying his head in her matted blonde curls. I sobbed too, cradling both Luke and Annabeth and hating the Fates for their cruelty more than ever.

The gods arrived a few minutes later in their full war regalia, thundering into the throne room and expecting a battle.

What they found was Grover unconscious, Ethan's body lying abandoned while I held Luke and he held Annabeth and we both wept, in the dim warm light of the hearth.

"Ana," my father called, awe in his voice. "What . . . what is this?"

I released Luke and forced myself to my feet as I faced the Olympians.

"We need a shroud," I announced, my voice cracking. "A shroud for the daughter of Athena, the one who saved Olympus."


	20. Awards Ceremony

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO. Glad that everyone is happy with how things played out. Thanks for sticking with me so loyally. **

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Award Ceremony of the Century**

The Three Fates themselves took Annabeth's body.

I hadn't seen the trio of hags since I'd witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when I was twelve, though I'd spent the intervening time cursing them all. They'd scared me then, and they scared me now—three ghoulish old women with bags of knitting needles and yarn.

One of them looked at me, and even though she didn't say anything, my life literally flashed before my eyes. First my childhood and the past few years. Then suddenly I was twenty. And then I was a middle-aged woman. Then I turned old and withered. All the strength left my body, and I saw my corpse being wrapped in an elegant shroud and burned. All this happened in less than a second.

_It is done,_ she said in my mind.

The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn—and I knew it was the same one I'd seen four years ago, the lifeline I'd watched them snip. I had thought it was my life. Now I realized it was Annabeth's. They'd been showing me the life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.

They gathered up Annabeth's body, now wrapped in a white shroud emblazoned with a silver olive tree, and began carrying it out of the throne room.

"Wait!" Athena suddenly called, moving over. She uncovered Annabeth's face and stared down at her daughter's still face. Then she leaned down and kissed Annabeth's forehead, whispering a blessing in Ancient Greek.

Then she nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away her daughter's body.

Next to me, Luke's knees buckled. I caught him in my arms, but he cried out in pain, and I realized I'd squeezed on his broken ribs.

"Oh gods," I exclaimed, feeling on the verge of tears from everything that had happened. "Luke, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he mumbled right before he passed out in my arms.

I let out a panicked cry. "Luke!"

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armour was so bright it was hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like a male model for battle gear. "God of medicine, at your service."

He passed his hand over Luke's face and spoke an incantation. Immediately the bruises faded. His cuts and scars disappeared. His arm straightened, and he sighed in his sleep, his breathing much easier.

Apollo grinned. "He'll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory: 'Apollo and his friends save Olympus.' Good, eh?"

"Thanks, Apollo," I replied. "I'll let you handle the poetry. You're the, uhm, _expert,_ after all." He grinned, oblivious to my sarcasm.

The next few hours were a blur.

The gods set about repairing the throne room, which went surprisingly fast with twelve super-powerful beings at work. Grover and I cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, we greeted our friends who had survived.

The Cyclopes had saved Thalia from the fallen statue. She was on crutches, but otherwise she was okay. Connor and Travis had made it through with only minor injuries. They promised me they hadn't even looted the city much. Mrs. O'Leary had dug Chiron out of the rubble and rushed him off to camp. The Stolls looked kind of worried about him, but at least he was alive. Katie reported that she'd seen Rachel run out of the Empire State Building at the end of the battle. Rachel had looked unharmed, but nobody knew where she'd gone, which also troubled me. Silena was alive too, and she hugged me, crying.

"Charlie's avenged," she sobbed into my shoulder. "He's avenged. So are my siblings."

"Yeah," I agreed through the lump in my throat. We stayed hugging until Aphrodite swooped down and bustled Silena away, beaming at her and declaring how proud she was. Silena looked startled and a little lost at how to deal with her mother noticing her.

Nico came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus on winter solstice. The god of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back. I doubted that he'd ever gotten such an enthusiastic welcome before.

Clarisse marched in, still shivering from her time in the ice block, and Ares bellowed, "There's my girl!"

The god of war ruffled her hair and pounded her on the back, calling her the best warrior he'd ever seen. "That drakon-slaying? THAT'S what I'm talking about!"

She looked pretty overwhelmed. All she could do was nod and blink, like she was afraid he'd start hitting her, but eventually she began to smile.

Hera and Hephaestus passed me, and while Hephaestus was a little grumpy about my jumping on his throne, he thought I'd done "a pretty bang-up job, mostly."

Hera sniffed in disdain. "I suppose I won't destroy you and that boy now."

"How gracious of you," I replied dryly.

"Hmm," Hera whirled away in a huff, but I figured our lives would be safe, at least for a few hours.

Dionysus' head was still wrapped in a bandage. He looked me up and down and said, "Well, Ana Jackson. I see Pollux made it through, so I suppose that you aren't completely inept. It's all thanks to my training, I suppose."

"Of course," I agreed, suppressing an eyeroll with award-worthy difficulty.

Mr. D nodded. "As thanks for my bravery, Zeus has cut my probation at that miserable camp in half. I now have only fifty years left instead of one hundred."

"Fifty years, huh?" I tried to imagine putting up with Dionysus for the rest of my life. It wasn't an enjoyable thought. "Lovely," I grimaced.

"Don't get so excited, Jackson," he said, and I realized he was saying my name correctly. "I still plan on making your life miserable."

I couldn't help smiling. "Naturally."

"Just so we understand each other." He turned and began repairing his grapevine throne, which had been singed by fire.

Grover stayed at my side. From time to time he would break down in tears. "So many nature spirits dead, Ana. So many."

I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a piece to my torn-to-pieces shirt to blow his nose with. "You did a great job, Grove. We _will_ come back from this. We'll plant new trees. We'll clean up the parks. Your friends will be reincarnated into a better world."

He sniffled dejectedly. "I . . . I suppose. But it was hard enough to rally them before. I'm still an outcast. I could barely get anyone to listen to me about Pan. Now will they ever listen to me again? I led them into a slaughter."

"They will listen," I promised. "Because you care about them. You care about the Wild more than anyone."

He tried for a smile. "Thanks, Ana. I hope . . . I hope you know I'm really proud to be your friend."

I patted his arm. "You're the bravest satyr I ever met, Grover," I declared. "_I'm _the one whose honoured to be friends with you." I meant it too. After all, demigods were br for battle. Nature spirits were peaceful. It took a lot more strength of will for them to fight than it had for me.

He blushed, but before he could say anything, conch horns blew. The army of Poseidon marched into the throne room.

"Ana!" Tyson yelled. He charged toward me with his arms open. Fortunately he'd shrunk back to normal size, so his hug was like getting hit by a truck, not the entire force of a tornado.

"You are not dead!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah!" I agreed. "Amazing, huh?"

He clapped his hands and laughed happily. "I am not dead either. Yay! We chained Typhon. It was fun!"

Behind him, fifty other armoured Cyclopes laughed and nodded and gave each other high fives.

"Tyson led us," one rumbled. "He is brave!"

"Bravest of the Cyclopes!" another bellowed.

Tyson blushed. "Was nothing."

"I saw you!" I said. "You were incredible!"

I thought poor Grover would pass out. He's deathly afraid of Cyclopes. But he steeled his nerves and said, "Yes. Um . . . three cheers for Tyson!"

"YAAARRRRR!" the Cyclopes roared.

"Please don't eat me," Grover muttered, but I don't think anyone heard him.

The conch horns blasted again. The Cyclopes parted, and my father strode into the throne room in his battle armour, his trident glowing in his hands.

"Tyson!" he roared. "Well done, my son. And Ana—" His face turned stern. He wagged his finger at me, and for a second I was afraid he was going to zap me into seaweed. "I even forgive you for sitting on my throne. You have saved Olympus!"

"Uhm, it was a group effort," I replied awkwardly. Next thing I know, we're hugging. It was weird. I had never even _touched_ my father before, let alone _hugged_ him. Thankfully, it didn't last long.

When he pulled away, he smiled kindly at me. I swallowed, biting back tears of exhaustion and relief. It was finally over, and the Prophecy was no longer hovering over my head like a Sword of Damocles. I'd spent so long afraid of making the wrong decision, it seemed like a dream for it to be over at last.

"Father—"

"Shhh," he stopped me. "No hero is above fear, Ana. And you have risen above every hero. Not even Heracles—"

"POSEIDON!" a voice roared.

Zeus had taken his throne. He glared across the room at my dad while all the other gods filed in and took their seats. Even Hades was present, sitting on a simple stone guest chair at the foot of the hearth. Nico sat cross-legged on the ground at his father's feet.

"Well, Poseidon?" Zeus grumped. "Are you too proud to join us in council, my brother?"

I expected Poseidon to get mad, but he just looked at me and winked. "I would be honoured, Lord Zeus."

I guess miracles do happen. Poseidon strode over to his fishing seat, and the Olympian Council convened.

While Zeus was talking—some long speech filled with nonsense about the bravery of the gods, etc.—Luke walked in and stood next to me. He looked pretty good for someone who'd been on the verge of death a few hours ago.

"Did I miss anything important?" he whispered.

"Nobody's planning to kill us, so far," I whispered back.

"First time all week."

"History, actually," I corrected. It was weird. I'd never been on Olympus without the gods debating whether or not to kill me. I figured that the whole saving Olympus thing'd give me a couple of hours though. Maybe. Depended on well I held my tongue.

"As for my brothers," Zeus continued, "we are thankful"—he cleared his throat like the words were hard to get out—"erm, we are thankful for the aid of Hades and his son."

The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd earned the right. He patted his son Nico on the shoulders, and Nico looked happier than I'd ever seen him.

"And, of course," Zeus continued, though he looked like the words were physically hurting him, "we must . . . um . . . thank Poseidon."

"I'm sorry, brother," Poseidon said. "What was that?"

"We must thank Poseidon," Zeus growled. "Without whom . . . it would've been difficult—"

"Difficult?" Poseidon repeated innocently.

"Impossible," Zeus snapped. "Impossible to defeat Typhon."

The gods murmured agreement and pounded their weapons in approval.

"Which leaves us," Zeus said, "only the matter of thanking our young demigod heroes, who defended Olympus so well—even if there are a few dents in my throne."

He called Thalia forward first, since she was his daughter, and promised her help in filling the Hunters' ranks, giving her his blessing, leading to a power boost that made her complexion glow with power.

Artemis smiled. "You have done well, my lieutenant. You have made me proud, and all those Hunters who perished in my service will never be forgotten. They will achieve Elysium, I am sure."

She glared pointedly at Hades.

He shrugged. "Probably."

Artemis glared at him some more.

"Okay," Hades grumbled. "I'll streamline their application process."

Thalia beamed with pride. "Thank you, my lady." She bowed to the gods, including Hades, and then limped over to stand by Artemis' side.

"Tyson, son of Poseidon!" Zeus called. Tyson looked nervous, but he went to stand in the middle of the Council, and Zeus grunted.

"Doesn't miss many meals, does he?" Zeus muttered. "Tyson, for your bravery in the war, and for leading the Cyclopes, you are appointed a general in the armies of Olympus. You shall henceforth lead your brethren into war whenever required by the gods. And you shall have a new . . . um . . . what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An axe?"

"Stick!" Tyson said, showing his broken club.

"Very well," Zeus blinked. "We will grant you a new, er, stick. The best stick that may be found."

"Hooray!" Tyson cried, and all the Cyclopes cheered and pounded him on the back as he rejoined them.

"Grover Underwood of the satyrs!" Dionysus called.

Grover came forward nervously.

"Oh, stop chewing your shirt," Dionysus chided. "Honestly, I'm not going to blast you. For your bravery and sacrifice, blah, blah, blah, and since we have an unfortunate vacancy, the gods have seen fit to name you a member of the Council of Cloven Elders."

Grover collapsed on the spot.

"Oh, wonderful," Dionysus sighed, as several naiads came forward to help Grover. "Well, when he wakes up, someone tell him that he will no longer be an outcast, and that all satyrs, naiads, and other spirits of nature will henceforth treat him as a lord of the Wild, with all rights, privileges, and honours, blah, blah, blah. Now please, drag him off before he wakes up and starts grovelling."

"FOOOOOD," Grover moaned, as the nature spirits carried him away.

I figured he'd be okay. He would wake up as a lord of the Wild with a bunch of beautiful naiads taking care of him. Life could be worse.

"Luke Castellan, my son," Hermes called, beaming with pride. Luke squeezed my hand then went to kneel in front of the gods. "What reward do you wish for, my son who has done so much to defend the West?"

I saw Luke hesitate for a moment then lift his chin determinedly. "First, my lords and ladies, I would ask that _all_ of half-bloods who fell during the war go straight to Elysium, as they deserve."

"Fine, fine," Hades grumbled when the gods looked at him. "I'll deal with it after this nonsense is over."

"And I want my mother's mind to be healed," Luke continued quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "She was cursed through no fault of her own. I want it lifted."

Hermes briefly looked pained, but he nodded. "It will be done, my son. Is there something else?"

"I want Queen Hera to swear on the Styx not to curse my marriage, should I choose to marry," he finished. "That's it."

Seemed like too little a reward for everything he had done and lost, but the gods accepted it and waved him away again. And what was that about marriage? No way was I wearing a white dress! Those things were ridiculous, and completely unreusable. I shuddered to imagine fighting in some poofy ballgown.

"MY DAUGHTER, ANAEA JACKSON!" Poseidon announced. My name echoed around the chamber.

All talking died down. The room was silent except for the crackle of the hearth fire. Everyone's eyes were on me—all the gods, the demigods, the Cyclopes, the spirits. I walked into the middle of the throne room. Hestia smiled at me reassuringly. She was in the form of a girl now, and she seemed happy and content to be sitting by her fire again. Her smile gave me courage to keep walking.

First I bowed to Zeus. Then I knelt at my father's feet.

"Rise, my child," Poseidon ordered.

I stood uneasily, half-expecting to be killed as a threat.

"A great hero must be rewarded," Poseidon said. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my daughter is deserving?"

I waited for someone to speak. The gods never agreed on anything, and most of them still didn't like me, but not a single one protested. Weird.

"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Ana Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."

I hesitated. "Any gift?"

Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Anaea Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a goddess. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

"Oh gods, I can't think of anything worse than living forever," I blurted out without thinking. Then I flushed, realizing what I had just said and to whom. "Uhm, no offence. Just not my cup of tea."

I heard Luke snicker and mutter "Only you, Ana" and silently vowed to punch him later on when I'd untangled myself from this mess and gotten what I _actually_ wanted from them. I'd been thinking, and I knew what I wanted. To make sure this _never_ happened again. Ever.

"You would refuse our generous offer?" Zeus demanded, glaring at me.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I would. I mean, honoured and all of that. But there is something that I want," I continued. "Do you promise to grant my wish?"

Zeus thought about this, before nodding grumpily. "If it is within our power."

"It is," I promised. "And it's not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx."

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?"

"Sorry, I don't know why," I scoffed sarcastically. "Not like a god's ever broken their word before or anything." I looked at myself and then at Thalia and Nico pointedly. They waved cheerfully, all three of us reminders of the broken oath. Our fathers looked faintly embarrassed at being called out.

"Very well!" Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your _reasonable_ request as long as it is within our power."

The other gods muttered assent. Thunder boomed, shaking the throne room. The deal was made. Now I had to hope that they would keep this oath better than the Big Three had in regards to their oath about having half-bloods after World War II.

"From now on, I want to you properly recognize the children of the gods," I announced. "_All_ the children . . . of _all_ the gods."

The Olympians shifted uncomfortably.

"Ana," my father frowned, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents," I stated, raising my chin defiantly. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a damn good reason for it. You're not heroes, my lords and ladies. You don't know how to feels, knowing the ones who brought you into the world don't even remember your names when you die because of them before reaching twenty."

"How dare you!" Athena snapped.

"I dare because I won't let this happen again!" I snapped. "I swore my own oaths, my lady, to _your_ son as he died in my arms, having been killed fighting for _your_ throne! None of this would ever have happened, if you lot could bother to take a few seconds out of your eternal lives to acknowledge your kids! If you treated the minor gods more respectfully, then they would never have turned against you!"

"Ana-" my father began to say, but I was on a roll and continued to speak.

"No more undetermined children," I insisted. "I want you to promise to claim your children—_all_ of your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen at most. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive."

"Now, wait just a moment," Apollo tried to cut me off, but I ignored him.

"And the minor gods," I went on. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe, all of them-—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades—"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hades bellowed.

"No, my lord," I denied that quickly. "Never. But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that. We wouldn't have survived if he hadn't convinced you to help us.

No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

"I'd like to be there to see the peaceful Titans released so I know that it happened," I shrugged. "But yeah, that's all."

He glared at me, and I met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Ana," Poseidon said, "you ask much. You presume much."

"I hold you to your oath," I replied. "All of you."

I got a lot of steely looks. Strangely, it was Athena who spoke up: "The girl is correct. We have been unwise to ignore our children. It proved a strategic weakness in this war and almost caused our destruction. Ana Jackson, I have had my doubts about you, but perhaps"—she hesitated, then spoke as if the words had a sour taste—"perhaps I was mistaken. I move that we accept the girl's plan." Maybe my comment about Malcolm, and the deaths of her children had actually moved her.

"Humph," Zeus said. "Being told what to do by a mere child. But I suppose . . ."

"All in favour," Hermes asked.

All the gods raised their hands.

"Thank you," I breathed in relief.

I turned, but before I could leave, Poseidon called, "Honour guard!"

Immediately the Cyclopes came forward and made two lines from the thrones to the door—an aisle for me to walk through. They came to attention.

"All hail, Anaea Jackson," Tyson beamed. "Hero of Olympus . . . and my big sister!"


	21. RED Oracle

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**The RED Oracle of Delphi**

For once, I was feeling relaxed. Surely there would be no more disasters after this? After some discussion with various gods, and receiving a list from Hermes of his children, Luke and I escaped and made our way to the lobby, planning to meet up with everyone else.

But we had just exited the elevator when Nico ran in from the street, and his face told me something was wrong.

"What?" I demanded in panic, going for my sword at the same time as Luke.

"It's Rachel," Nico exclaimed. "I just ran into her down on 32nd Street."

"Is she alright?" I asked worriedly.

"It's where she's gone," Nico replied. "I told her she would die if she tried, but she insisted. She just took Blackjack and—"

"She took my pegasus?" I repeated shrilly in fury.

Nico nodded. "She's heading to Half-Blood Hill. She said she had to get to camp."

Nobody steals my pegasus. I wasn't sure if I was more angry or amazed or worried.

"What the fuck was she thinking?" Luke wondered as we ran for the river. Unfortunately, I had a pretty good idea based on the scene of Nico's mother's death and Rachel's recent dreams. Combined with my knowledge of what happened to Luke's mother, how she had tried to take on the spirit of the Oracle and doomed herself, and my suspicions filled me with dread.

The traffic was horrible. Everybody was out on the streets gawking at the war zone damage. Police sirens wailed on every block. There was no possibility of catching a cab, and the pegasi had flown away. I would've settled for some Party Ponies, but they had disappeared along with most of the root beer in Midtown. So on we ran, pushing through mobs of dazed mortals that clogged the sidewalks.

"She'll never get through the defences," Luke pointed out. "Peleus will eat her."

I hadn't considered that. The Mist wouldn't fool Rachel like it would most people. She'd be able to find the camp no problem, but I'd been hoping the magical boundaries would just keep her out like a force field. It hadn't occurred to me that Peleus might attack.

"We've got to hurry." I glanced at Nico. "I don't suppose you could conjure up some skeleton horses."

He wheezed as he ran. "So tired . . . couldn't summon a dog bone."

Finally we scrambled over the embankment to the shore, and I let out a loud whistle. I hated doing it. Even with the sand dollar I'd given the East River for a magic cleaning, the water here was pretty polluted. I didn't want to make any sea animals sick, but they came to my call.

Three wake lines appeared in the grey water, and a pod of hippocampi broke the surface. They whinnied unhappily, shaking the river muck from their manes. They were beautiful creatures, with multicoloured fish tails, and the heads and forelegs of white stallions. The hippocampus in front was much bigger than the others—a ride fit for a Cyclops.

"Rainbow!" I called. "How's it going, buddy?"

He neighed a complaint.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I apologized quickly. "But it's an emergency. We need to get to Camp right away."

He snorted.

"Tyson?" I repeated. "Tyson is fine! I'm sorry he's not here. He's a big general now in the Cyclops army."

"NEEEEIGGGGH!"

"Yeah, of course he'll still bring you apples. Now, about that ride . . ."

In no time, Luke, Nico, and I were zipping up the East River faster than Jet Skis. We sped under the Throgs Neck Bridge and headed for Long Island Sound.

It seemed like forever until we saw the beach at camp. We thanked the hippocampi and waded ashore, only to find Argus waiting for us. He stood in the sand with his arms crossed, his hundred eyes glaring at us.

"Is she here?" I asked.

He nodded grimly.

"Is everything okay?" I asked then.

Argus shook his head.

We followed him up the trail. It was surreal being back at camp, because everything looked so peaceful: no burning buildings, no wounded fighters. The cabins were bright in the sunshine, and the fields glittered with dew. But the place was mostly empty.

Up at the Big House, something was definitely wrong. Green light was shooting out all the windows, just like I'd seen in my dream about May Castellan. Mist—the magical kind—swirled around the yard. Chiron lay on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him. Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.

_Don't blame me, boss-lady! _he pleaded when he saw me. _The weird girl made me do it!_

Rachel stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she was waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball.

"What's she doing?" Luke demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"

"She flew," one of the satyrs explained, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon, right through the magic boundaries."

"Rachel!" I called, but the satyrs stopped me when I tried to go any closer.

"Ana, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his two back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. "You can't interrupt."

"I thought you explained things to her!"

"I did. And I invited her here."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You said you'd never let anyone try again!" Luke cried. "After Mom, you swore—"

"I know what I said, Luke. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades. She believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."

"And if the curse isn't lifted?" I snapped. "If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"

The Mist swirled around Rachel. She shivered like she was going into shock.

"No!" I shouted. "Stop!"

I ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs. I got within ten feet and hit something like an invisible beach ball. I bounced back and landed in the grass.

Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking—like she could see me, but only in a dream.

"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away. "This is why I've come."

"You'll be destroyed!"

She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Ana. I finally understand."

I was frantic to stop her, but I couldn't even get to my feet.

The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out. I recognized the warm musty smell of snakes.

Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, curling around the house. Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway.

The withered mummy shuffled forward in her rainbow dress. She looked even worse than usual, which is saying a lot. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like the seat of a worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space, but I got the creepiest feeling she was being drawn straight toward Rachel.

Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared.

"You've waited too long," Rachel stated. "But I'm here now."

The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air—a blond dude in a white toga, with sunglasses and a cocky smile.

"Apollo," I said.

He winked at me but held up his finger to his lips.

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he began, oddly formal. "You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure you want this?"

Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."

"Do you accept the risks?"

"I do."

"Then proceed," the god instructed her.

Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open my eyes to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker of Riddles, Seer of Fate."

I didn't know where she was getting the words, but they flowed out of her as the Mist thickened. A green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and slithered down the stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy crumbled, falling away until it was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped Rachel in a column.

For a moment I couldn't see her at all. Then the smoke cleared.

Rachel collapsed and curled into a fetal position. Luke, Nico, and I rushed forward, but Apollo said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."

"What's going on?" I demanded. "What do you mean?"

Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."

"And if it doesn't?" Luke asked tensely.

"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."

Despite Apollo's warning, I ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The smell of the attic was gone. The Mist sank into the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still pale. She was barely breathing.

Then her eyes fluttered open. She focused on me with difficulty. "Ana."

"Are you okay?"

She tried to sit up. "Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.

"Rachel," Nico said seriously, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could _see_ you dying."

"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions—they're a little disorienting."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I pressed her anxiously.

Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle of Delphi."

"Fucking gods of Olympus," Luke muttered. "What in Tartarus?"

Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me too, but this is my fate. I saw it when I was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."

I blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"

"Not all the time," she replied. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When someone asks me a question, I . . . Oh no—"

"It's starting," Apollo announced.

Rachel doubled over like someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her eyes glowed serpent green.

When she spoke, her voice sounded tripled—like three Rachels were talking at once:

_"Seven half-bloods shall answer the call._

_To storm or fire, the world must fall._

_An oath to keep with a final breath,_

_And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."_

At the last word, Rachel collapsed. Nico and I caught her and helped her to the porch. Her skin was feverish.

"I'm all right," she said, her voice returning to normal.

"What was that?" I asked.

She shook her head, confused. "What was what?"

"I believe," Apollo announced, "that we just heard the next Great Prophecy."

"What does it mean?" I demanded.

Rachel frowned. "I don't even remember what I said."

"No," Apollo mused. "The spirit will only speak through you occasionally. The rest of the time, our Rachel will be much as she's always been. There's no point in grilling her, even if she has just issued the next big prediction for the future of the world."

"What?" I almost shrieked. "But—"

"Ana," Apollo waved at me casually, "I wouldn't worry too much. The last Great Prophecy about you took almost seventy years to complete. This one may not even happen in your lifetime."

I thought about the lines Rachel had spoken in that creepy voice: about storm and fire and the Doors of Death. "Maybe," I muttered, "but it didn't sound so good."

"No," agreed Apollo cheerfully. "It certainly didn't. She's going to make a wonderful Oracle!"

It was hard to drop the subject, but Apollo insisted that Rachel needed to rest, and she did look pretty disoriented.

"I'm sorry, Ana," she said. "Back on Olympus, I didn't explain everything to you, but the calling frightened me. I didn't think you'd understand."

"I still don't," I admitted. "But I guess I'm happy for you. If you are too."

Rachel smiled. "Happy probably isn't the right word. Seeing the future isn't going to be easy, but it's my destiny. I only hope my family . . ."

She didn't finish her thought.

"Will you still go to Clarion Academy?" I asked.

"I made a promise to my father. I guess I'll try to be a normal kid during the school year, but—"

"But right now you need sleep," Apollo scolded. "Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?"

"No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought."

"I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theatre systems."

Chiron cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Apollo demanded.

Rachel hugged me. "Thank you, Ana," she murmured, before winking at me and jerking her head at Luke. "Go get 'im, tiger." Then she turned and followed Apollo into the Big House.

The rest of the day was as strange as the beginning. Campers trickled in from New York by car, pegasus, and chariot. The wounded were cared for. The dead were given proper funeral rites at the campfire.

Malcolm's shroud was the colour of her eyes, embroidered with a bunch of tiny olive branches. The symbol of peace. No one mentioned the word spy. That secret burned to ashes as the olive-scented smoke rose into the sky.

Even Alabaster Torrington was given a shroud—black silk with a logo of crossed torches that Lou Ellen and her sister Josephine, the only other child of Hecate left of the nine that had been known. Hecate's children had been hit hardest in this mess. As Alabaster's shroud went up in flames, I hoped Alabaster knew he had made a difference in the end. He'd paid a lot more than he deserved, but the minor gods would finally get the respect they deserved.

Dinner at the pavilion was low-key. The only highlight was Juniper, who screamed, "Grover!" and gave her boyfriend a flying tackle hug, making everybody cheer. They went down to the beach to take a moonlit walk, and I was happy for them, though the scene reminded me of Silena and Beckendorf, which made my heart ache in grief. The emotional scars of this war would take a long time to heal, if they ever did. Silena herself, was clearly still grieving, and I didn't think the hole in her heart would ever fully heal. But she was alive, and she'd keep going on, if only because she knew it's what he would have wanted her to do.

Mrs. O'Leary romped around happily, eating everybody's table scraps. Nico sat at the main table with Chiron and Mr. D, and everybody was patting him on the back, complimenting him on his fighting. Even the Ares kids seemed to think he was pretty cool. Apparently, if you show up with an army of undead warriors to save the day, you're everybody's best friend. Will had claimed Nico's shoulder, and I could see a flush in the typically-ghostly pale boy's cheeks, which made me grin.

Slowly, the dinner crowd trickled away. Some went to the campfire for a sing-along. Others went to bed. I sat at the Poseidon table by myself and watched the moonlight on Long Island Sound. I could see Grover and Juniper at the beach, holding hands and talking. It was peaceful.

"Hey." Luke slid next to me on the bench. "Happy birthday."

He was holding a huge misshapen cupcake with blue icing.

"Make a wish," he urged me.

"Did you bake this yourself?" I asked warily. "'cause I don't want to throw up."

"Tyson helped."

"That explains why it looks like a chocolate brick," I commented lightly. "With extra blue cement. I guess I don't have to worry about getting sick though. It'll just sit in my stomach for the rest of my life."

Luke laughed, his blue eyes.

I thought for a second, then blew out the candle.

We cut it in half and shared, eating with our fingers. Luke sat next to me, and we watched the ocean. Crickets and monsters were making noise in the woods, but otherwise it was quiet.

"You saved the world," he stated.

"We saved the world."

"We're pretty awesome, you know," he said, turning to look at me. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face, and I smiled at him.

I brushed the cake off my hands. "When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable . . . Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I saw you," I revealed, looking out at the ocean.

"Hera promised never to curse me if I got married," Luke pointed out quietly.

"You askin' me to marry you, Casanova?"

"Well, I'm not looking for seashells here."

I turned to look at him, finding him kneeling on one knee and grinning as he held out a beautiful silver ring with a small pearl cut like a seashell towards me. I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, feeling him slide the ring onto my ring finger before entangling his hand in my messy curls.

I could've stayed that way forever, except a voice behind us growled, "Hallelujah!"

Suddenly the pavilion was filled with torchlight and campers. Clarisse led the way as the eavesdroppers charged and hoisted us both onto their shoulders.

"Oh, come on!" Luke complained. "Can't a couple celebrate their engagement in peace without you weirdos all butting in?"

"I think that the lovebirds need to cool off!" Clarisse declared with glee.

"The canoe lake!" Connor shouted.

With a huge cheer, they carried us down the hill, but they kept us close enough to hold hands. Luke was laughing, and I couldn't help laughing too, even though I was bright red.

We held hands right up to the moment they dumped us in the water.

Afterwards, though, I had the last laugh. I made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Our friends kept waiting for us to come up, but hey—when you're the daughter of Poseidon, you don't have to hurry.

And it was pretty much the best kiss, under or above water, of all time.


	22. A Peaceful Life?

**Enjoy this final part, and thank you all for everything. I am so proud to have finished this project, and I gift it to all of my followers and reviewers. I couldn't have summoned the energy to complete it without knowing you guys wanted to read and liked it. Thank you all for your support, so much.**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**A Peaceful Life At Last?**

Camp went late that summer. It lasted two more weeks, right up to the start of a new school year, and I have to admit they were the best two weeks of my life. When I wasn't revelling in the freedom of not having the Great Prophecy hanging over my head, I was planning my wedding with the help of the girls.

Luke had taken one look at the glint in Silena's eye and declared that he had faith in my judgement. We had settled on the autumn equinox as the date, and I had threatened the Stolls to ensure no thoughts of bachelor parties with strippers crossed their minds. Drunken stupidity was fine though. But if I got one word of them getting arrested, they'd be 'helping' me with sword practice for the next month at _minimum_.

Meanwhile, Grover had taken over the satyr seekers and was sending them out across the world to find unclaimed half-bloods. So far, the gods had kept their promise. New demigods were popping up all over the place—not just in America, but in a lot of other countries as well.

"We can hardly keep up," Grover admitted one afternoon as we were taking a break at the canoe lake. "We're going to need a bigger travel budget, and I could use about a hundred more satyrs."

"Yeah, but the satyrs you have are working super hard," I smiled (not that I did anything else these days). "I think they're scared of you."

Grover blushed. "That's silly. I'm not scary."

"You're a lord of the Wild. The chosen one of Pan. A member of the Council of—"

"Stop it!" Grover protested. "You're as bad as Juniper. I think she wants me to run for president next."

He chewed on a tin can as we stared across the pond at the line of new cabins under construction. I twisted my ring as I surveyed the area. It meant even more to me, knowing that Beckendorf had made it on Luke's request, and that it could change into a knife if I turned the pearl. Pretty and practical and perfect for me. And most importantly, a reminder of a dear friend and surrogate brother.

The U-shape would soon be a complete rectangle, and the demigods had really taken to the new task with gusto.

Nico had some undead builders working on the Hades cabin. Even though he was still the only kid in it, it was going to look pretty cool: solid obsidian walls with a skull over the door and torches that burned with green fire twenty-four hours a day. Next to that were the cabins of Iris, Nemesis, Hecate, and several others. They kept adding new ones to the blueprints every day. It was going so well, Chiron was talking about adding an entirely new wing of cabins just so they could have enough room.

As I'd said I wanted, Hermes had taken me with him to release the peaceful Titans, and Calypso had burst into tears when she heard the news. She was currently off seeing the world, and IMing me regularly to exclaim over one thing or ask for information about another. She was going to be one of my bridesmaids at the wedding.

The Hermes cabin was a lot less crowded now, because most of the unclaimed kids had received signs from their godly parents. It happened almost every night, and every night more demigods straggled over the property line with the satyr guides, usually with some nasty monsters pursuing them, but almost all of them made it through. We had guards stationed at the border round the clock, ready to run down and help any new arrivals get to safety or raise the alarm.

"It's going to be a lot different next summer," I commented. "Chiron's expecting we'll have twice as many campers. It's even gonna be busy at winter!"

"Yeah," Grover agreed, "but it'll be the same old place."

He sighed contentedly.

I watched as Tyson led a group of Cyclops builders. They were hoisting huge stones in place for the Hecate cabin under Lou Ellen's watchful eye, and I knew it was a delicate job. Each stone was engraved with magical writing, and if they dropped one, it would either explode or turn everyone within half a mile into a tree. I figured nobody but Grover would like that.

For one thing, the wedding dress Silena was designing for me would probably look terrible with that thick type of figure instead of my own hourglass one. I'd agreed to a silver and blue dress. It was in an Ancient Greek style, but the skirt was cleverly slashed to allow me better movement and I'd be able to re-wear it. And Nico had promised to summon Mom, so she could see me get married. I'd burst into tears and hugged him so hard, his rib had literally been cracked.

"I'll be traveling a lot," Grover warned, "between protecting nature and finding half-bloods. I may not see you as much."

"That won't change anything," I scoffed. "You're still my best friend."

He grinned. "Except for Luke."

"That's different."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It sure is."

"Just promise me that you won't miss the wedding."

"Titans couldn't keep me away," he promised earnestly, making me lean over to hug him tightly.

In the late afternoon, I was taking one last walk along the beach when a familiar voice said, "Good day for fishing."

Poseidon was standing knee-deep in the surf, wearing his typical Bermuda shorts, beat-up cap, and a real subtle pink-and-green Tommy Bahama shirt. He had a deep-sea fishing rod in his hands, and when he cast it the line went way out—like halfway across Long Island Sound.

"Hello, Father," I greeted him cautiously. Things had been going so well, I hoped with all my heart he wasn't here about some quest or anything similar. I'd end up tearing my hair out in frustration. "What brings you here?"

He winked. "Never really got to talk in private on Olympus. I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me? You came to the rescue."

"Yes, and I got my palace destroyed in the process, but you know—palaces can be rebuilt. I've gotten so many thank-you cards from the other gods. Even Ares wrote one, though I think Hera forced him to. It's rather gratifying. So, thank you. I suppose even the gods can learn new tricks."

The Sound began to boil. At the end of my dad's line, a huge green sea serpent erupted from the water. It thrashed and fought, but Poseidon just sighed. Holding his fishing pole with one hand, he whipped out his knife and cut the line. The monster sank below the surface.

"Not eating size," he complained. "I have to release the little ones or the game wardens will be all over me."

"Little ones?"

He grinned. "You're doing well with those new cabins, by the way. I suppose this means I can claim all those other sons and daughters of mine and send you some siblings next summer."

"Ha-ha."

Poseidon reeled in his empty line.

I shifted my feet. "Um, you were kidding, right?"

Poseidon gave me one of his inside-joke winks, and I still didn't know whether he was serious or not. "I'll see you at your wedding, Ana."

"You're coming?" I blinked in surprise.

"Of course I am," he grinned as if there had never been any doubt. "As your father, I'm expected to give you away, am I not? And remember, know which fish are big enough to land, eh?"

With that he dissolved in the sea breeze, leaving a fishing pole lying in the sand. I bit my lip, staring at the rod. I didn't know if he was really going to come or not, but, I realized with a faint pang of surprise, I wouldn't mind if he _did_ come and give me away. And if he didn't, that was okay too. I didn't _need_ my father to be part of my life, but I'd be pleased if he was.

That evening was the last night of camp—the bead ceremony. The Hephaestus cabin had designed the bead this year. It showed the Empire State Building, and etched in tiny Greek letters, spiralling around the image, were the names of all the heroes who had died defending Olympus. There were too many names, but I was proud to wear the bead. I put it on my camp necklace—four beads now. I felt old. I thought about the first campfire I'd ever attended, back when I was twelve, and how I'd felt so at home. That at least hadn't changed.

"Never forget this summer!" Chiron told us. He had healed remarkably well, but he still trotted in front of the fire with a slight limp. "We have discovered bravery and friendship and courage this summer. We have upheld the honour of the camp."

He smiled at me, and everybody cheered. As I looked at the fire, I saw a little girl in a brown dress tending the flames. She winked at me with red glowing eyes. No one else seemed to notice her, but I realized maybe she preferred it that way.

"And now," Chiron clapped, "early to bed! Remember, you must vacate your cabins by noon tomorrow unless you've made arrangements to stay the year with us. The cleaning harpies will eat any stragglers, and I'd hate to end the summer on a sour note!"

The next morning, Luke and I stood at the top of Half-Blood Hill. We watched the buses and vans pull away, taking most of the campers back to the real world. A few old-timers, including me, would be staying behind, and a few of the newcomers, but Luke, for the first time, was going home. As requested, his mother had been healed and they'd been talking via IM. She was coming to collect him and take him back to Connecticut.

"Good-bye," Rachel said to us as she shouldered her bag. She looked pretty nervous, but she was keeping a promise to her father and attending Clarion Academy in New Hampshire. It would be next summer before we got our Oracle back.

"You'll do great." I hugged her.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "You're no idiot mortal Barbie doll. You'll knock 'em all dead." Now that Rachel had proven herself a dozen times over, they'd become decent friends.

Rachel bit her lip. "I hope you're right. I'm a little worried. What if somebody asks what's on the next math test and I start spouting a prophecy in the middle of geometry class? The Pythagorean theorem shall be problem two... Gods, that would be embarrassing."

We laughed, making her smile.

"Well," she said, "you two be good to each other. I'll see you at the wedding." With that, she wished us well and ran down the hill to catch her ride.

The guard dragon Peleus curled contentedly around the pine tree underneath the Golden Fleece and began to snore, blowing steam with every breath.

"You've been thinking about Rachel's prophecy?" I asked Luke.

He frowned. "How did you know?"

"Because so have I."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Okay, so maybe I have been a bit curious and nervous about it. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. I'm curious as to who they'll be. We're going to have so many new faces next summer."

"Yeah," I agreed. "And all that stuff about the world falling in storm or fire. Sounds like fun, no?"

He grimaced. "And foes at the Doors of Death. I don't know, Ana, but I don't like it. I thought . . . well, maybe we'd get some peace for a change. Be able to just live our lives."

"Wouldn't be our lives if they were peaceful," I scoffed.

"I guess you're right... Or maybe the prophecy won't happen for years."

"Could be a problem for another generation of demigods," I agreed. "Then we can kick back and enjoy ourselves."

He nodded, though he still seemed uneasy. I didn't blame him, but it was hard to feel too upset on a nice day, wrapped in his arms with the wind blowing the scent of the sea to me, knowing that I was free at last of everything save my love for him.

A blue Volkswagon pulled up, and a fair-haired woman climbed out. She looked up at us, and I recognized May Castellan from the single photo Luke had of her. She stood at the bottom of the hill, looking up at us hopefully as she fidgeted with a handbag strap. She looked clear and gentle, nothing like the madwoman that shook her son in the middle of a fit that Luke had described her to me as. Luke stiffened beside me, swallowing. I squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"Race you to the road?" I suggested with a soft grin.

"You are so going to lose." He took off down Half-Blood Hill and I sprinted after her.

For the first time, I didn't look back.


End file.
